Dark Messiah II: Ashes Anew
by Ikoter
Summary: From greed or fear, it will decide. The Chained One is left alone. The relic's power, yet untapped. And Ashan's fate, still yet unknown. NSFW.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE:**

 **PART ONE:**

The city of Stonehelm...

This great fortress town may have been broken through multiple times since it's construction in the forty eighth year of the Seventh Dragon, but never had it been brought to the point in which it was that day.

It was morbid.

The undead had been brutal throughout their attack. Many mangled and ripped fleshy bits lay scattered in the corners of all streets, the most intact ones having been turned to undead.

If that wasn't enough, necromancers used their black magic to piece together severed body parts and create unsightly abominations of flesh and bone.

Countless lives were lost that day. What few survived could not have seen darker times.

Clear lines of smoke rose from the city, markers of hellish fires soon to come, and a deathly silence. Such was the destruction that the undead legion wrought.

That had been without a doubt Stonehelm's darkest hour.

Sareth saw all of it.

From the decrepit gateway of an entrance into the lower tomb, he witnessed Stonehelm in it's worst state.

The young man stood as rigid as a statue when his eyes fell upon the city, without a single hint of what to do.

'What... Am I fighting for?' This question rang multiple times in his mind, each time striking deeper and deeper towards the one undeniable truth: he didn't know.

Sareth reached the end of his journey. It was relatively over, so to speak...

His father, Kha-Beleth, had been found, as per the original goal of his mission. But... Unlike what Sareth's previous master set him out to do, Phenrig could not have possibly foreseen that his pupil would go against the demon sovereign.

The Dark Messiah sealed his monster of a father forever in Sheog, or, delayed him further. He didn't know which.

'Sareth?' A voice rang telepathically through the young man's mind. 'Sareth answer me...' The clear longing in it made the prince finally snap out of his trance.

His left hand raised itself at forehead level and indicated a headache.

'I am here, Xana.' Despite having been in clear pain, Sareth responded to the woman he loved so much, the one for whom he renounced both father and heritage.

'Are you alright? Perhaps you should seek a place to fall asleep.' That day had been horrid...

Sareth had to fight his way through a city under siege, kill an undead cyclopes and descend into an abandoned necropolis.

Once there, more nightmarish foes awaited in the dark. His adversary, the one who orchestrated everything, Arantir, summoned a skeletal dragon through which the young man had to go through in order to reach the necromancer.

And after it was all over... The altar revealed itself... Sareth had to use the Skull of the Seventh Dragon and shatter the prison which held his father and his kin.

But he didn't.

He did not do it.

The man clad in armor, with a sword which literally ate souls, whom killed so many larger than life beasts and bested death numerous times, could not do it.

The reason was simple: Sareth was naive.

He permitted his lack of knowledge and experience to get in the way of things.

Sareth simply could not comprehend in that moment, the consequence of destroying the prison of Sheog.

The prince shook his fists. He had too feeble a mind to understand the meaning of fulfilling his role as the Demon Messiah.

Yes, Sareth was the Messiah prophesied by the wizard Sar-Shazzar so many centuries ago. He was aware of that.

"Milord!" Once more, snapped from his trance.

A single moment of looking around, Sareth spotted, and was approached by, a man clad in armor.

"Duncan? You are still alive?"

"Yes and not just I. The undead suddenly dropped, so a part of Stonehelm's populace might have survived. I don't know how many though."

Sareth sighed a breath of relief and smiled. His part to play in this appeared to have ended.

"Milord, was it your doing?" Sareth nodded. "Praise Ylath! Its finally over!" Duncan celebrated.

But Sareth didn't.

"Duncan, let's search for whoever survived."

"Right."

"And be prepared should we encounter any undead still standing."

 **PART TWO:**

Sareth and Duncan settled on making for the main building in the center of the city, all the while searching for any survivors along their way.

In the middle of Stonehelm stood Menelag's mansion, the previous ruler of the free city. Sareth recalled the advent which caused Menelag's death: slain by the filthy claws of Arantir's ghoul over a Shantiri crystal just so that the necromancer could open a portal to Nar Heresh.

Another reason why Sareth put a blade through Arantir's gut.

They chose to go there specifically because the building was fortified. It was well known to the populace that if the city was to be under siege, Menelag's mansion was the most secure area for the citizens to seek refuge.

As the two walked on bloodied roads amidst burned houses, Duncan drew Sareth's attention: "Milord! Look there!"

What they saw was a group of survivors which were exiting a relatively undamaged stone building. They consisted of two swordsmen clad in armor just like Duncan's, a wizard dressed in blue robes with a wooden staff and four villagers whom were equipped with their regular work clothes, but also had knives, hammers and broomsticks as means of defending themselves.

Having seen each other, the two parties approached. There was absolutely no hostility between them, but rather, they were rushed by the same joy as that of seeing friendly troops on a chaotic battlefield.

It was a sense of friendship one would find only amongst members of the same species in very dire situations.

"Thank Ylath!" A soldier had started.

"We thought for sure we won't find anymore living people around." The other one continued.

"Consider the Dragon Gods to be on your side today lads." Duncan said and raised a hand to point at Sareth. "Cause this here is lord Sareth, trusted friend of lord Menelag, hero who killed the necromancer that assaulted our fare city!"

Sareth felt he might dig a hole and bury himself underground due to the embarrassing exposition Duncan just cooked up for him. And the other party? They gasped a silent 'Holy Ylath!' at what they'd just heard.

After a moment of silent admiration, one of the villagers managed to ask:"Is it true?"

To which Sareth silently shook off his embarrassment and nodded. Someone might have gulped.

"To be fair-" Duncan began. "-an actual demonstration would be more believable I'd say."

'Ugh, please. You could turn them all to cinder in a second if you wanted.' The voice of Xana echoed through Sareth's mind, but he saw no reason to agree with what she had just said.

"There will be a time for such bravado Duncan, but right now, we need to see to the city."

"Ah, spoken like a true hero. Lead on Milord!"

Their group now numbered nine people which marched in union towards Menelag's mansion. That place also acted as a headquarter of operations, much like a castle did in many other free city of the Empire.

And as such, the main building of Stonehelm was protected by a secondary wall, which served as a 'last line of defense' kind of thing. During a siege, villagers were brought to safety within those walls.

They just had to hope that the garrisoned unit there still held.

 **PART THREE:**

Several minutes later, they had reached the second line of defense and to their dismay, there was no sign of there ever having been a gate.

"What on Asha's green earth..." The voice was silent but had been heard amidst their group, from farther back.

Sareth, positioned at the front, with Duncan at his side, stood speechless, much like everybody else there. They were all in awe at the supposed last 'line of defense', having been broken through, with no portcullis or recognizable gateway anywhere in sight.

In equal manner, the ground was surprisingly not covered in blood or corpses and the mansion looked to still be intact.

They stood nary a moment, before life showed itself in the form of a wounded guard. The man slowly approached them through the breach and clung to the wall.

When he fell down, one of the soldiers from Sareth's group and the wizard rushed at him. The guard drew his weapon and scanned the surroundings whilst the sorcerer casted healing spells upon him.

"Clear!" The soldier who stood watch spoke.

The remaining seven approached.

"Can you tell us what wounded you and if its still around?" Duncan asked the one that was healed. Since the wizard removed the helmet and lowered the chainmail protecting the head, Sareth could see in that moment just how young the wounded one was.

He was surely an adolescent. That meant he was even younger than Sareth.

Phenrig helped the demon Sovereign's son to come of age just so that Sareth could fulfill his role as the Dark Messiah. Such world shattering actions were usually left to those who had more experience in their life, were older and wiser...

But not with him.

Sareth had been raised till the moment he was destined to reach his full learning potential and then sent into the world to change history forever.

It surprised the Dark Messiah that one much younger than him was assigned as a guard and given adult responsibilities so soon.

'I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of it.' Xana added.

"A-" The boy began, clearly in pain. "A ghoul."

"And is it dead?" The boy used his head to indicate a 'no'. "Is there more than one?" He then nodded, causing the interrogator to silently curse.

Duncan then turned to Sareth for leadership, who gave a 'what?' look.

'He's asking you what they should do!' Xana enlightened him.

"Ah, we should search the mansion for any more survivors. You and I." Duncan nodded. "The rest of you remain here and be on the lookout for-"

Sareth interrupted himself because he thought he heard a noise. The noise repeated itself the next second as a stomp sound, which only then alerted everyone else.

Their heads scattered in all directions as the continuous stomp noises became increasingly louder.

And then it showed itself.

Out of the corner of the path way that they had just transgressed, came hideousy made manifest.

An unsightly abomination.

It was an aberration. A pile of incomplete corpses forced to fit together to make a bigger monster. This one was surely as big as a cyclopes.

It approached on three main limbs. Two in the front and one in the back. Its loud moans of pain scared the villagers and made them run to the far back of the group while everyone else held their ground.

"Gods..." One of the villagers had whispered in fear of the bitterly ugly misconception of a being.

'Ugh, disgusting! Even for servants of the spider goddess!' Xana thought she was going to puke inside Sareth's mind.

Sareth swallowed his fear as he had done many times in the past and stepped forward. Having seen him advance, no one else there felt like doing or saying a single thing.

The distance between the party and the beast was a solid thirty meters.

The moment Sareth pulled out his sword was the moment the aberration increased its pace into a three limbed charge.

Having enough time, Sareth raised his left hand and pointed it at the thing.

"Lightning." Was all he needed to say before his hand instantly shot a bolt of blue hot energy in the approaching thing's body.

The impact the spell made was evident as the hideous mass of flesh slowed its advance considerably. But that was by no means enough to put the beast down for good.

The next second however, the aberration resumed charging at full speed as if nothing ever happened.

Sareth brought his left hand below his chin in the form of an upright sign and whispered: "Sanctuary".

Immediately after, magic surrounded him in a transparent bubble. This spell was designed to protect the user from enemy attacks for a limited time or until it could no longer bear outside pressure.

Next, he charged at it.

When the distance between them was of three meters, the aberration slowed down and raised one of its forward limbs to squash Sareth. But being a cunning warrior, the young man advanced forward just enough to evade the hit and thrusted his sword.

His blade, Soulrend, pierced till the aberration's core and buried itself in the thing up until the hilt.

The limb it previously raised to attack crashed to the ground behind Sareth, seemingly lifeless. The warrior then focused for a second and channeled magic into his blade.

The next instant, the beast was encased in a torrent of vigorous fire that burned furiously, leaving naught but ashes and cinder in the wake of its devastation.

The onlookers were flabbergasted. The talk about lord Sareth killing the enemy necromancer leader seemed far more believable now.

 **PART FOUR:**

Sareth calmly returned to the group, all of which were in awe… Except Duncan.

Duncan held a look of 'I told you' towards the other guards, the mage and the villagers. He happened to see Sareth's martial prowess and magical expertise before, during the expedition to get a hold of the Skull of Shadows.

He knew better than anyone there that Sareth was fully worthy of leadership over Stonehelm. Over… What remained of Stonehelm.

"Milord." Duncan started. "I've looked through the main door of the mansion. Everything appears to be clear. No sign of the enemy or our own."

"Let's enter." Sareth replied firmly, his composure regained since he killed the aberration.

Admittedly, the young man's spirit nearly faded away after his battle with Arantir, more specifically, upon returning to the surface.

Now that Sareth had killed something, his demeanor as a man returned, which allowed him to impress Xana once again and proceed farther in his journey.

'Huh... My journey... Where will this one lead?'

'Have you become an adventurer?' Sareth nearly forgot that Xana lived inside his head ever since he left Phenrig's mansion. But unlike Menelag, his master's house was not located in the middle of one of the free cities.

So as not to offend Xana by having done monologue, Sareth shut up.

The first time he entered the mansion was due to the privilege of a private meeting with the lord of Stonehelm. Second was when the city was silently infiltrated at night by Arantir's black guard, a thing which resulted in Menelag's death and the loss of the Shantiri crystal.

Fortunately, Sareth was able to recover it.

The interior was extravagant, just as Sareth knew it would be. Upon having entered, two sets of stairs to the sides led up to a throne room, a place where Sareth once broke a massive chandeliers' holding to make it come down and swing back and forth until it killed either him or the black guards of Arantir he happened to be fighting at the time.

Since his last visit, the chandelier had been brought back up, with hardly any signs that a battle ever took place there.

"Duncan, where are the safe shelters?"

"At the lowest level. We'll need to walk quite a bit until there."

"Lead the way."

"Hope there's no undead along the way..."

After what seemed like a dozen rooms and coridors empty of any form of human presence alive or dead, the two arrived at the safe shelters.

They were essentially large reinforced rooms which could even withstand earthquakes if the need arose. They were beneath the mansion.

There was a great moment of suspense and fear for the people and guards within when the stone door machinery activated and granted access to the outside world.

And then it all calmed down as Duncan and Sareth entered.

"Here you all are." Duncan began. "The enemy's been defeated!" He had said earning a cheer from everybody there.

But Sareth felt unsettled. The young guard back at the second line of defense was attacked by a ghoul. The prince kept his eyes open so that no undead sneaked up on him.

"And this here is our savior!"

"Wh-" Sareth dumbfounded looked back at the crowd.

 **PART FIVE:**

A deathly silence permeated the air.

Down there, in the crypt beneath the city, a bald, middle aged man in a gray coat looked with disdain at what was the corpse of a necromancer.

"Is this what the Demon Messiah is capable of?" His voice contained fury at the sight of the decapitated body.

The man's right hand extended forward and caused the head of the necromancer to levitate up to him. Its expression was one of regret and sorrow.

"Awaken Arantir." With commanding words the head regained consciousness, even separate from the body.

"… My master…" Arantir began, setting eyes straight. "I... have failed you..."

"So you have." The man's reply showed disappointment. "I do not recall teaching you how to fail."

"The demon bastard… He was stronger than we anticipated."

"Is that so? I remember your bravado when speaking of how you will ensure that Sar-Shazzar's prophecy would never come to fruition."

"I assure you, I will finish the job."

There was the sound of footsteps coming from behind him.

"Your defeat has caused me to already set new events in motion."

"But-"

"Perhaps your very own apprentice will outperform you."

"No!" Was all Arantir could speak before his head was turned to dust…


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO:**

 **PART ONE:**

Sareth looked up due to awe. He was now in Me- no, 'his' new mansion.

"This way Milord." The manservant indicated for the young lord to follow.

But Sareth could not shake the feeling. Menelag's library was immense! How did he hide so many bookshelves and entire years worth of knowledge in his mansion?

It truly looked as if magic had been implemented to expand the available space.

That was not the case.

What Sareth's eyes saw was the actual size of the building which he had just earned by saving the whole city.

'Saving Stonehelm...' This fact hit Sareth well enough to shake him back into reality and follow the servant who, at this point, obtained a head start.

Having been a warrior as much as a mage, Sareth quickly caught up with the servant. Just like mere moments ago, when he fought the vile undead beast, the distance covered in a small leap was...

"Here is the entrance to the lord's chambers." It was to be noted that you'd have to go through a gigantic library in order to reach the bedroom.

You'd end up with the impression that Menelag grinned maniacally at the vast quantities of knowledge he'd obtained over who knew how many years just as he would go to bed each night.

The lord's chamber was great as well in some proportion.

In the middle of the room, the most eye catching thing was a large bed, made of timber wood with four large rods at its corners that supported the beds own personal rooftop. Its linen was the color of dark purple.

To the side of the bed, one could find more bookshelves. In front of it stood a stone hearth and a round table with one chair.

'Whoa...' Was all that the young lord could muster in that moment.

"Please have a bath before going to sleep Milord." Sareth could only guess how extravagant a bath was going to be like in such a mansion.

 **PART TWO:**

As his eyes slid open, Sareth felt inexplicably uncomfortable. Previously, after he thought he'd see a great bathroom, having been disappointed by a regular bathtub, the young lord had thrown himself in the huge bed.

The feeling when he landed on the soft mattress... Heaven... That's what it felt like...

Judging by the day he had... Yes, it was Heaven.

But now it felt otherwise. Why?

"My dear Sareth." She longingly said.

The man's eyes met those of the woman for whom he'd sacrificed everything; his face was buried in her mounds. She smiled happily at the situation.

Ever since they'd met, Xana never had the chance to love Sareth properly due to the fact that the two of them always sought to fulfill the role of the Messiah. Knowingly or unknowingly.

But now they could...

Sareth felt fully awake despite having just woken up. Was it sunrise already?

"Xana?" He was quite surprised to see the succubus holding him at her chest.

"Yes my prince?" She had said in a most sweet voice. The she-demon dearly hoped that Sareth was going to ask her to make love.

"Xana..." The Dark Messiah had repeated nearly disappointed. "Is it morning?"

"Well no. I used my power to make you wake up in a dream, so to speak. You are still asleep."

Now that was surprising.

"I'm in... A dream?" That explained why Sareth was not tired at all.

The young lord used his arms to get up, but Xana's own were intertwined behind his back and kept Sareth above her in a manner which indicated the desire to… Do pleasant things together.

The succubus smiled happily at that.

"Sareth?" She then said confused as he broke free of her hold in a calm way.

The young lord had made his way to the side of the bed, pulled his legs out and looked at the wooden floor. Something clearly bothered the man.

Xana once more called out to him: "What's the matter?" and made her way to his side. She placed a hand on his shoulder and closed her lips near his cheek, almost as if to whisper sweet poison into his ear.

"There is a problem."

"Allow me to vanquish it."

"You don't understand Xana... The problem is you."

She gasped back at the sound of that. The succubus immediately got down from the bed and made her way in front of Sareth, where she knelt to look longingly into his eyes. A shred of sorrow was visible in hers.

"Can you... Specify?" She almost begged. "Am I... Truly the problem?" Under no circumstance did the succubus think she'd end up as a nuisance.

She always thought of herself as the one Sareth truly desired. From having read his thoughts in the past, Xana gathered that she was the reason the Dark Messiah defied his destiny.

Sareth brought his right hand closer, a thing she interpreted as a desire to place it against her cheek and grew happy.

Xana was immensely surprised when Soulrend materialized in Sareth's hand for its blade to push against the succubus's neck.

Her eyes then trailed to Sareth's and begging for dear life.

"Xana... You served my father for who knows how long. You then helped me betray him. Its only a matter of time until you betray me as well." Sareth truly wanted it to be false.

Xana's eyes now revealed immense amounts of sorrow. But she was glad about one thing though: she knew what to do.

"My dear Sareth..." She began, but felt the sharpness of Soulrend push against her neck once more, its cold embrace called out to her.

In that place, due to it being a dream, Sareth had actual access to the spirit living inside his mind.

"I love you." Xana continued. "That is my only reason."

"Love?" Though it made Sareth jump with joy at the thought, he still held his blade against her neck.

The young lord needed more reason than simple 'love' to fully trust someone who seemingly betrayed her previous master on a whim.

"Yes Sareth. Throughout my life, as both a human and a demon, I only ever sought the lover of my life. And now I've found him." She raised her left hand to gently touch Soulrend in a way that did not imply a desire to no longer have it pressed against her neck. "Do it if you must, but... It will sadden me... Please don't throw me away!"

She had almost felt proud for the kind of performance with which she delivered her last line: a most honest plea of sincerity.

If she were to die, her soul was going to end up back in Sheog where she was going to be tormented for the sin of betrayal. But if she were to die by Soulrend's edge, her soul was instead going to fly inside it, where a different sort of punishment awaited her.

But she was at least going to be by Sareth's side.

Xana was immediately rushed by the sensation of happiness when she saw the one she love lower his sword. The young lord had recognized that her words were true.

Everything she was, everything she'd desire, she laid it before him to see. If that wasn't a demonstration of loyalty, Sareth didn't know what was.

"Can... I?" Her hands extended towards Sareth's face and yearned to pull him closer.

There was a moment of silently starring in each others eyes before the young lord slowly nodded.

 **PART THREE:**

"Milord, we've got people from the Wolf duchy at the gates, requesting entry." Duncan said while walking beside Sareth through Menelag's library.

"Who are they exactly?"

"I'm not sure. They look like refugees for the most part. Must have been driven off from their hometown."

"Refugees?"

"One addressed himself by name as 'Aaron Visingthor' and declared to be friend with the lord of Stonehelm."

"He must be referring to Menelag. Allow them entry."

It had been two days since Sareth became lord of Stonehelm and in that time, he'd already been given a short tutorial in how to act as a ruler along with a brief history lesson and an explanation as to how the Empire works.

'Refugees? If you take them in, you could refill a part of the population that were lost a few days back.' Xana's sweet voice sounded.

In the past few days, she had gotten so very close to the young prince.

'As far as I understood, Stonehelm is a free city whose populace worships Ylath. Those from the Wolf duchy are part of the Empire and thus, worship Elrath. If they will impose their religion upon us, I will have no choice but to kick them out.' After all, Stonehelm was built for those who refused to change their faith.

"Make sure our people don't start a religious conflict Duncan."

"Right Milord. I won't disappoint you." With a quick and respectful head bow, Duncan left in a hurry.

Sareth made his way to the throne room, where his first ever guests were meant to arrive and got himself cozily set up on said throne.

'My, you look regal.' The voice of Sareth's lover echoed through his mind and revealed the desire for the two to make love right there and then.

Nevertheless the young lord held back from the temptation and looked at the servants in the hall.

They made preparations for the soon to arrive refugees of whom they'd been informed of way too late. The servants walked back and forth between rooms to tidy the place up for it to be presentable.

But unlike the servants, who were still working, the guardsmen had already assumed their positions. Each soldier stood at key locations such as in front of a pillar or overlooking the steps upward, and they made up to a total of twenty four.

Sareth didn't know where they came from. He certainly didn't remember so many to survive the undead attack.

Were they recruited from the villagers that took shelter beneath the mansion at the time of the attack? It was highly likely and if that was indeed the case, were two days of training enough for them to equal life time guards?

The doors to the mansion opened. Through them, nine armored individuals walked in, followed shortly by ten regularly clothed peasants.

The one in the front was a man who stood one point nine meters tall and wore an armor colored in silver and gold. What was so impressive about the whole ordeal was the thickness of the vestments, for it truly looked like the man wore three entire sets of protective layers all at once.

Xana spoke: 'You see the old fellow in the shining armor? He must be that Aaron person.'

'I thought as much. So he is the one who was friends with Menelag…'

Sareth was deeply impressed by the refugee leader. It must have taken an astounding amount of strength for such a feat.

'My dear, I'm certain you can lift an entire cyclopes with one hand due to your heritage'.

Aaron was wrinkled around the eyes and his face bore a scar; proof of an aged war veteran. His head, while bald, displayed a stern look and a long black beard that covered the length of his neck.

His armor was colored in full silver with golden symbols and trims. His war gear was thick enough to give one the impression that any blades which hit the man were bound to bounce off harmlessly.

The eight other individuals which walked behind Aaron Visingthor were legionnaires, foot soldiers of the Empire. Their armor was made of metal that resembled silver, but wasn't as thick as that of their leader's. The tabard which covered their chest was red. They had no cape.

The citizens of the Empire which followed shortly by them were there more likely to only to hear Sareth's word and carry it to the rest of the refugees.

Aaron walked into the room determined to negotiate heavily with Menelag. What he got instead was a young lord who did not seem to have much about himself.

"Greetings to the vassals of the Empire, here to grace us with their presence from the Wolf duchy." That was how Sareth was taught was a good method to start a friendly conversation.

"Greetings. I am Aaron Visingthor of the Wolf duchy and an inquisitor of the Empire. To whom am I speaking?" Aaron used a strong tone which showed that he was in no mood to be played with or approached by flattery.

"I am Sareth, ruler of Stonehelm. You mentioned being a friend of lord Menelag?"

"Yes. I wish to speak with him. Where is he?"

"Several days ago, the city was under attack by an undead legion. Menelag perished in the defense of the town."

'Such a brazen lie...' Xana was almost proud of the prince.

"I however engaged the enemy leader and bested him in combat, managing to ensure victory for Stonehelm. It did not come at an easy price however."

Aaron stood and listened to Sareth's bravado which regarded past days events. His expression remained strong and unmoved as the young lord explained his victory. It appeared as though he thought Sareth was lying. It didn't really surprise anyone to doubt someone who climbed onto a throne with unreliable tales of glory.

In the inquisition, those interrogated often times came up with incredible stories just to save their skin. It was only a matter of 'who'.

After Sareth explained, Aaron Visingthor provided a sagely nod and began to voice his presence there.

"Lord Sareth. I am ashamed to admit it, but the city over which I governed was over run by orc nomads. I took with me those whom I could and fled to Stonehelm for Menelag's help. But now that you tell me this city has also suffered from war a few days ago..." Visingthor looked troubled as he scratched his bald head.

There was a clear issue in the air, one which Xana did not seem to acknowledge.

The succubus manifested herself in her lovers embrace. She made sure to place her bottom onto his crotch and lean against him in a sign of love. Of course, only Sareth could see her.

The young lord nearly panicked in that moment, yet succeeded to keep his composure and not make a fool out of himself in front of the inquisitor.

That was not be the first time Xana had done such a thing.

In previous days, as Sareth was tutored regarding his new lordship, the succubus placed herself in his arms numerous times. She had flawless performance in her quest to rob Sareth's attention away from his study and onto her.

As such, the young lord grew accustomed to her acts of love. As any man, it pleased Sareth greatly to be adored by one such as Xana.

"Inquisitor Visingthor, I can permit your people to fill in the empty space in my city, but only if no one will force anyone to change their faith in the dragons."

"Most well lord Sareth. I can assure you that none of my personnel would do such a thing. I shall also speak to the citizens of the Wolf duchy to avoid these meaningless conflicts." Aaron agreed with Sareth completely in that regard. "I should also inform you that the possibility of the orc nomads following us and attacking Stonehelm is high as well."

"Should that happen, we will need to face them together."

"Of course, however, I noticed that your city is in dire need of repairs. My people shall assist in the reconstruction of the walls and houses and I have brought a fine architect of the Empire to oversee most of these repairs."

It was no secret that the walls of Sareth's city were a little outdated. That was due to the fact that Stonehelm was a free city which most of the time avoided contact with the Empire due to their religious difference. As such, centuries of improvements in many aspects might have passed by them without them noticing. It was rather advantageous to have someone from the Wolf duchy come over and modernize their structures.

Yet none of that mattered to Xana. While Sareth had masterfully avoided her charms up until that point, she did something to completely distort her lover once again: the succubus placed a kiss on the young lord's cheek.

This act succeeded greatly. Sareth's trail of thoughts was thwarted and it threw him off completely. The succubus giggled.

"Lord Sareth, were you friends with Menelag as well?" The one on the throne only nodded. Aaron turned around and used his hand to point at something. "Behold the gift I bring with me."

She stepped forward, face and eyes pointed at the carpet beneath her feet as she advanced in front of the throne room, hands intertwined in the front.

"Greeting Lord Sareth. I am Rena Falcon of the Wolf duchy." She placed a hand on her chest as she bowed to politely introduce herself, even as she was being gifted to an unknown lord against her will.

The politeness in her voice, the manners, the white dress she wore... It caught almost everybody's attention.

Xana tightened her grasp on Sareth, who could only stare at Rena dumbly. The reason for this fact was simple: she was a refined lady.

In terms of beauty, she did not surpass the succubus hanging around the young lord's neck, but...

... There was one thing which earned Sareth's attention above all else.

And that was...

'... Leanna?'

 **PART FOUR:**

An orc ran through lines of tents filled with other warriors of its kind. Some enjoyed a meal. Others sharpened their weapon and repaired their armor. One could also see numerous goblins and ogres scattered throughout the encampment doing various things.

After having arrived at the main tent, the warrior shouted: "Chieftain!". Nary a moment later, he received a reply to enter. He'd discarded his weapon and entered.

Inside, the warrior's eyes met that of the chieftain's, a big orc in full bone armor. His left hand was entirely devoid of flesh, up until the elbow. At his side, though not in his hand, stood a big bone mace, ripped out from the body of a dragon and placed inside a hilt of steel.

Rohegan of the Bonefist tribe. That was the name that chieftain bore.

After a respectful bow, the warrior began his report: "We've discovered where the remaining humans fled."

"Where?" The heavy voice with which the chieftain talked implied injuries near the neck and indicated age. This orc must have reached several hundred years of life, a thing not many war bound achieve.

"North-East of here. What shall we do, chieftain?"

"Are we within striking distance?"

"Yes!"

"Tell the troops to prepare. We attack at dawn."

"Yes, chieftain." With that, the warrior left the tent.

Rohegan was now alone.

To say that he was an orc was half mistake. He was conceived between an ogre and an orc. Due to that and his long life of conquests, he had almost no difficulty in convincing a large number of orcs, ogres and goblins to follow him.

His purpose?

Having lifted the helmet of a fallen Redskull clan tribesman, Rohegan stared at it and whispered: "I will avenge your death, Aratrok, and recover that which your clan has guarded for centuries."

 **PART FIVE:**

'Why do you do this?!' Xana complained. 'You're still going to meet that wench?!'

The succubus had mounted poor Sareth a bit too much last night in order to keep him away from the fake 'Leanna' that showed up the day before.

Sareth departed his chambers and the vast library in order to meet Rena Falcon, whom the inquisitor gifted to the lord of Stonehelm. She was clearly a political tool, but at the same time, she was of marring age, and it was a custom in the Empire to have such girls married when they came of age.

Political tool or not... Sareth wanted to know something desperately.

'He-lp... Me...' The flashback of when Leanna extended her hand towards Sareth from behind the gate, all the while she suffocating under Arantir's telekinetic power… Sareth was powerless to save her in that moment.

The guilt rang deep in him. Xana tried her best to make him forget and take his attention away. It was said that a man who had suffered a deep mental wound, or his heart was stabbed by guilt, could only be healed by the special grace of a woman dear to him.

The same was true for any woman. Love was strong. It was a factor that some could have argued was more powerful than even the dragon gods themselves.

'I need to know.' Sareth spoke to Xana, yet managed only to further agitate her.

'But you have me! Why do you still seek this mongrel out? Have I not proven my love for you is unrivaled?'

The prince stopped. This caused a moment of silence between them.

'I'm sorry.' These sincere words grabbed Xana's attention and almost made her forgive him if Sareth hadn't continued. 'It is something I have to do.'

The young lord then ignored her banter and proceeded forward. He had long since ordered a guard to tell the inquisitor to send Rena to a specific room inside his mansion.

Upon having entered said room, the current ruler of Stonehelm was immediately assaulted by an image of Menelag. The old wizard sat at the end of the table with a glass of wine in hand, food before him and made Sareth aware that Phenrig's subordinates were not to touch Leanna.

In a second, the illusion was gone, replaced by a mere lifeless table.

Servants came into the room, greeted their lord, brought food and wine...

Sareth went to sit on the same chair on which Menelag once sat, but had not began eating yet. He waited for Rena Falcon, who showed up just a minute later.

"Greetings to lord Sareth." Polite words coupled with a bow once more managed to stun the young ruler.

Similar to yesterday, Rena wore a white dress which had a red stripe that came down from her left shoulder towards her right waist. The dress was trimmed with golden edges at the neck and hands. Her vestment had the golden representation of a symmetrical bird where her belly lied.

Having snapped out of his trance, as he'd made a habit of, Sareth spoke: "Thank you for coming despite not having been announced sooner. I hope you have yet to eat for today." Sareth motioned for Rena to take a seat.

It was morning.

Rena looked at her food for a second, before she raised her eyes to meet Sareth. She still held slight amounts of hatred and fury within at the fact that she'd been offered to an unknown lord whom governed a city that did not even warship Elrath.

"Pardon me if I stared too much at you yesterday. You reminded me of someone I knew."

"I remind you of whom, Milord?"

"Leanna." Sareth said with visible sorrow in his eyes, looking down at the plate before him. When the young lord looked up, he saw Rena very surprised. "… Is something the matter?"

Rena contemplated for a moment, before she spoke: "… Though I rarely spent time with her..." She calmly began. "Leanna is my sister."

What?

She... What?

Her facial features were almost a replica of Leanna, which should have been more than enough proof. However Rena's hair was longer than her sister's, went way past the chin and reached the shoulders. Golden strings hanged from the head with no restraint.

Rena's appearance made her completely stunning to those whom had not seen the likes of a succubus before.

Speaking of which, Xana was completely silent. Almost as if she wasn't there at all.

It felt that even if Sareth were to call out to her, she would not answer.

At least she did not attempt to distort his concentration, like in the throne room.

Another difference between Leanna and Rena was the significant increase in bust size, a thing any sane man wanted.

But that was neither the time nor the place.

"Where is she?" Rena almost demanded. "Last I was here I was welcomed by lord Menelag and my sister and now I cant find them anywhere?!"

All forms of mannerisms seemed to have vanished. Sareth understood fully why.

With guilty voice, he replied: "… Leanna is dead."

This alone settled Rena's furious spirit and made her entirely… Hollow.

"… How?" It was small, quiet, barely audible, but definitely there.

Sareth didn't know how to put it... How was he going to tell Rena that he had been sent out by Phenrig to become the Demon Messiah and unleash all hell upon Ashan?

Her head lowered by great amounts of sorrow.

"It was-"

Duncan ran barged through the door. "Milord!"


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE:**

 **PART ONE:**

Sareth rode on a horse, rushing towards the first wall. The moment when Duncan entered the room to announce the siege was when the young lord's expression darkened.

His entire demeanor gathered where it was needed most to allow Sareth to confidently go to battle despite him skipping the important first meal of the day.

Being the lord of the city also made him the chief commander when it came to defending the town and as such, he had to be there. Thankfully, he did not need to eat in order to give orders. Worst case scenario would mean the assailants reaching Sareth and him being forced to join the fight.

One could entirely blame fate for this. Two sieges mere days away from each other meant destiny was not kind to them. Stonehelm's lack of potent soldiers was a large weakness since everybody was busy rebuilding the town. The enemy attack had taken everybody by surprise.

The reason for this being the lack of manpower to send out scouts. The population within Stonehelm was seriously scarce.

Sareth arrived in the big open area before the front gate. Such zones were always clear for the eventuality of a large defending army fighting an outside force.

The young lord immediately noticed soldiers rushing up the wall to put their archery to use. Down there however, mages were healing wounded guardsmen.

Sareth dismounted and approached one of these wizards to ask what the situation was.

"We have already suffered several losses, but we've been successful in keeping the orcs outside." Was his response.

Thinking about it, the gate and the walls looked flawless. There no longer existed the small door through which Sareth was dragged in when he was thrown off his horse the first time he arrived at Stonehelm.

The gate was composed of a portcullis, a wooden pair of doors behind it and another portcullis. In total, the orcs had to go through three gates to gain entry.

The work of the imperial architect impressed Sareth. He had to thank inquisitor Visingthor when he was going to be able to.

Speaking of which, where was Aaron?

"The inquisitor is up on the wall, Milord." The same mage answered when asked.

Footsteps were heard from behind, causing Sareth to turn head and look. Many meters away, he saw marching legionnaires followed swiftly by several marksmen. These were Visingthor's troops.

Sadly, their numbers too, were few.

'Marksmen' were the ranged infantry of the Empire, who used a crude machine named a crossbow. Supposedly, the crossbow was a very effective weapon, capable of penetrating several armor sheets.

Sareth followed them as they walked past him, realizing that they were probably leading the young lord to the inquisitor.

 **PART TWO:**

Aaron Visingthor looked to the horde of orcs gathered below. Their continuous efforts of breaching the gate did not succeed.

Back at Bellshire, his home town in the Wolf duchy, the gate fortifications were breached only because there was a cyclopes lobbing boulders at it.

But not this time.

Somewhere amidst the chaos, their cyclopes had been killed by sustained ranged fire and spells. The orcs had a hard time breaching through now.

By the looks of it, many of them had melee weapons and as such, the inquisitor was using a strategy which permitted their small numbers to overcome the large horde. He had ordered the soldiers to fire arrows and duck incoming enemy missiles.

His plan was to thin out the enemy as slowly as the few soldiers there permitted him to, all in the hopes the orcs would lose cause and back off. So far, the gate was doing a marvelous job protecting them from the enemies which could only bash things above the head.

There was a semblance of confusion on the Inquisitor's face as he saw the young lord of Stonehelm follow in the footsteps of his troops.

Having kept his head down, Sareth made his way towards Visingthor.

"Take positions at the wall." Aaron had ordered his forces, then turned to Sareth. "I was not expecting you here."

"I've come to help. Is the situation manageable?"

"Barely. The orcs heavily outnumber us." Sareth took a quick glance down at them.

There were so many enemies that they could have numbered in the hundreds, close to a thousand. That compared to the hundred or so soldiers guarding Stonehelm...

"Damn, this is going to be a long fight." Sareth cursed, surprising the inquisitor by not proposing to run.

Any sane person who cared for their well being would have thought that the only possible way of assuring their own survival in one such situation would have been to flee. There were no reinforcements after all.

Aaron was incapable of telling. The fact that Sareth wasn't thinking about running away made the inquisitor believe that the young lord was a man who had great amounts of courage and understood that they absolutely had to win.

Maybe he really did defeat the force assaulting Stonehelm a few days ago...

In truth, Sareth had given up. He gave up living some time ago.

Sareth was meant to be the Dark Messiah, the bringer of the end! But he wasn't...

He did not fulfill the one role he had in life and thus, felt useless.

Yet this was the path he chose to walk upon.

Sareth may not have done what he did for the people of Stonehelm, or of Ashan, but he did it anyway. And he was sure that the dragon gods were watching him, for, at any point, Sareth could unleash hell.

Or at least he thought so. After all, the Skull of the Seventh Dragon was still in his possession.

"So what do you propose we do?" Aaron's question brought Sareth back to reality.

"… Perhaps we might make them scatter if we kill their leader." The young lord suggested, but the inquisitor was baffled by it.

"And how are we going to do that? With our archers? Do you even know who their war chief is?" He was right. There was no way of telling form that distance.

It didn't help that all the orcs looked alike either. Their leader might have been any random enemy from down there.

Even making an educated guess was out of the question.

The forces who followed Rohegan that day were gathered from nomadic, individual orcs who did not belong to any war master. They themselves chose to follow this chieftain due to respect for the old orc.

All of them.

 **PART THREE:**

Sareth got out of cover and looked at the orc horde. His eyes scanned nearly all of them, despite the inquisitor's shouts to get down.

Then something garnered the young lord's attention.

In a very well coordinated and accurate motion, Sareth raised hand and quickly caught an arrow mid flight towards his face.

This act stunned the humans who saw it. Even Aaron couldn't bring himself to say anything. That was mostly due to the fact that Sareth didn't even budge while achieving this performance.

There was no fear in his eyes or movement. He had complete and utter confidence that he would pull it off.

And he did.

The act of catching the arrow was so perfect that it made the inquisitor think Sareth was half sylvan, or was trained by an elf for a certain amount of time.

"What?" Sareth blatantly stated, forever confirming that which everyone was thinking: The young lord was not to be messed with.

And then it happened.

Stonehelm's wall was struck by lightning and it resulted in the scorched bodies of several dead soldiers to go flying. The thunder bolt had landed to Sareth's left, but just far enough to not hit him.

There was no way of telling if the attack was meant for him or not, but the fact it hit was definitive proof that the orcs had someone who could cast spells.

Perhaps an orc sorcerer?

No no, those were called shamans.

And that was something that hardly mattered.

What was important however was the fact that they'd managed to anger Sareth.

What did matter was that they managed to anger Sareth.

The sight of innocent men dying triggered fury within the young lord. The man extended his left hand forward, gathered magic in his palm and grasped onto something. A second later, his hand held onto a bow, blue in color and decorated with runes of power.

This was a magical weapon that went by the name of 'Piercer of Heaven'.

Sareth then brought the hand with which he caught the arrow, armed the bow and prepared to fire. He had pointed straight in the middle of the orc horde.

After a brief delay of charging the arrow with magic through the Piercer, Sareth released its string.

This projectile was abnormal to say the best. First, it traveled far faster than a regular arrow. Secondly, the damage dealt was a hundred times greater than what a single regular arrow could achieve. When it impacted, it was as if lightning struck that very spot. Magic was the cause of it. Around five orcs bunched together were instantly killed by it.

But it didn't stop there.

The arrow Sareth shot hadn't even touched the ground but instead, at one meter altitude, it changed its own orientation and continued unhindered, at immense speed, through the orc lines, coming in with a loud thundering echo.

This endeavor further killed orcs in the dozens if not hundreds, leaving a momentary blue trail and a crimson carnage in the wake of its devastation.

Once again, the Dark Messiah immensely impressed those there present.

This was a trick Sareth learned whilst stealing a ship from Arantir's black guards. The bow just so happened to allow the arrow to be shot with much, much more power.

If the young lord was to keep firing arrows like this, they could definitely drive back the orc force…

But there was a problem…

Somewhere along the halfway point of its trajectory, the immensely powerful arrow stopped. Rather, it was stopped by a large orc.

This orc used its left, skeletal hand to stop the arrow. How he managed it, nobody could tell for certain.

This orc then hauled loudly. It appeared to have ordered its subordinates to gather the bodies of their fallen and retreat hastily, because that is what the orc horde had done there after.

This action went on unhindered as the guards of Stonehelm stopped firing arrows after lightning stuck.

A solid minute later, the ground in front of the free city was completely cleared of hostilities, except for one, single remaining orc.

This one was most likely their chieftain.

He held his ground, but raised his club towards the high wall where the young lord stood.

Sareth understood the message.

Without alerting anyone, the man grabbed onto the ledge and flung himself over it, resulting in a fall of fifteen meters.

At that point, Aaron jolted out of cover and stocked his head over the wall to peer at the man who'd just jumped such a crazy height.

Sareth had landed perfectly on his feet.

The Dark Messiah had not fulfilled its original purpose and thus, believed itself useless to the world. But he had not realized that he had dedicated himself to protecting Stonehelm and its inhabitants.

Perhaps the dragon gods were to blame for this.

His bow, Piercer of Heaven, disappeared in a flash.

Soulrend materialized in Sareth's right hand accompanied by an armor set to protect his skin.

Now that he was closer, Sareth saw fully the opponent before him: An orc or ogre three meters tall clad fully in armor made of bones. From its chin, a black beard could be spotted.

Yet the thing which intrigued the young lord the most was the bone hand which his opponent had.

Sareth watched the orc raise his large club and point it at him.

Next, he spoke: "I am Rohegan of the Bonefist tribe. You have killed a friend of mine and stolen that which he guarded. Honor demands you be punished for your transgression."

If one would have asked how the chieftain knew it was Sareth's doing, it was because he had felt it in the spirit world. Rohegan was a shaman.

 **PART FOUR:**

There was a moment of eerie silence on the stone road as both participants observed each other in preparation of the duel which was to come.

Sareth assumed a fighting stance that had him take a step back and raise Soulrend at head level, pointed at the adversary.

"Tell me something." Rohegan began. "For what cause have you desecrated the temple of my blood brother?"

Sareth was compelled to answer. "If you know it was me how do you not already know why?"

"The spirit world rarely holds much in the way of answers. I only felt when my brother ascended. But he has chosen to speak with me one last time. In doing so, he showed you to me."

The chieftain took a menacing step forward, which caused the young lord to take one back.

"Do you have an answer for me, desolator?"

With great sadness, Sareth answered: "… No."

"I know who you are bringer of the end. You will find no mercy at my hand."

The big orc started charging.

Having snapped out of a one second long fear grip, Sareth recognized the danger before him and rolled to the right.

The great bone club of his adversary came crushing down on his previous position.

Up top on the wall, Aaron intentionally ordered his men and the guards to hold fire. Despite 'helping the ruler of Stonehelm not get murdered' being the most logical course of action, the Inquisitor was very curious as to see what Sareth was capable of.

As luck had it, the roll that the Dark Messiah performed took him right behind Rohegan. This prompted him to strike the orc, but his attempt fell short as Soulrend could not quite pierce the thick bone hide.

Immediately after that, Sareth leaped back so as not to be hit by a skeletal hand that came his way.

After assuming a defensive position once again, the young lord asked: "What is that armor made of?!"

Having turned to face his opponent, the chieftain answered: "… Dragon bones."

Sareth remembered how difficult it was for him to cut through the cartilage of the spectral dragon Arantir had summoned when they fought. His swings were easily thwarted, his arrows broke upon impact… Only one thing managed to work and that was magic.

But that was hardly going to help him there.

As he found out in the Redskull temple, orcs were quite resilient to external magic.

Now that was quite the pickle. Soulrend couldn't cut the armor and magic fell flat. So what was he going to do?

… Give up? Run away? No. Not while he still had someone to protect.

Sareth gathered his demeanor for a course of actions which were bound to lead him to either victory or defeat. Both he and Rohegan ran towards one another to engage in combat.

The chieftain swung horizontally, from his right, a fell swoop to the left, which did not hit the prince.

Having managed to dodge out of the way, Sareth stepped in decisively and thrusted Soulrend through a gap in armor. Fortunately, it managed to pierce and sink in about ten centimeters. Unfortunately, the hit was at waists level, above the right leg.

The warrior immediately ducked and pulled back as the big bone club came swinging back at him.

'Dodged that one by the skin of my teeth...'

"I may be stronger that my blood brother." Rohegan began. "But this is nowhere near enough to kill either of us."

Sareth swallowed.

For the first time in a while, he felt an ounce of cowardice. Even Arantir's spectral dragon didn't scare him as much. This was an opponent which posed a serious issue.

The Dark Messiah couldn't let this continue. He lowered his guard and relaxed his arms. Afterwards, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He exhaled this air very slowly and made sure that it carried with it his fear.

Rohegan stood and waited. This entire activity took all of ten seconds. Ten seconds he could spare.

As the allotted time neared its end, the chieftain took hold of his club with both hands in preparation of one great strike.

Sareth had done the same thing. Soulrend had been pulled up and it awaited to be swung.

It truly was a shame how time passed… Nary a century ago the chieftain was at his prime. He possessed such strength, vigor and life force that he ripped the heart of a pit lord from its hateful chest out with his bare hands!

Now… He felt old.

He was old.

Time proved to be a warrior's worst enemy. Every single fighter was only ever allotted a limited amount of time to shine. His was long gone.

Rohegan could feel his club getting heavier with each passing second. He was not able to keep it up for much longer.

Time had ripped this once mighty warrior to pieces.

But there was one… Friend… The chieftain made, who could surely avenge his death.

A human, much like the one standing before him. One whom was unaffected by time's passing and much older than even him.

Sareth leaped forward, towards the orc.

Rohegan used the remained of his strength to raise his weapon and bring it down crashing onto the opponent's body.

The young lord used Soulrend with both hands in an upwards slash. His attack had managed to blow aside the weapon of the chieftain, and at the same time, slash through half the orc's neck.

Blood spurted out and the giant fell backwards.

'It was over...' Sareth thought to himself, relieved.

A coughing sound ruptured through Rohegan's lungs. He struggled, but managed to speak: "Be… Ware… R… Re-"

The light in the chieftain's eyes vanished and his head fell down for good.

A loud cheer broke loose atop the walls, where the men rejoiced.

Sareth couldn't contain himself and formed a smile. He was happy to have emerged victorious.

But the cheers of the guards quickly extinguished. They rapidly grabbed bows and prepared to fire his way.

And that was because Sareth had been approached from behind.

When he turned around, he saw four human sized orcs. None of them bore weapons.

"Allow us to take our chieftain."

 **PART FIVE:**

Slowly, eyes cracked open. The light was ferociously invasive.

But that was a good thing because it meant that the orc survived.

He was still alive.

He had went shipwrecked on... An unknown island.

His body was washed up shore by some semblance of a water current. Though he was still dazed, the orc managed to get up.

He gazed at the sea for a brief moment before turning around. The sight which awaited him inland was composed of sand and rocks. In the far distance, he could see mountains.

But in the far close, he could see another orc. This one was sitting on a rock, meditating.

Our shipwrecked survivor approached said orc.

"Blessings of mother earth and father sky be upon you. I am Rohegan, the unyielding. Where are we?"

The one whom meditated opened his eyes to see whom addressed him.

"Mother earth and father sky have clearly blessed you. I am Aratrok of the Redskull clan. I have seen your arrival in my dreams."

"Was it you who saved my life?"

"No. It was mother earth and father sky."

"Are you a shaman?"

"Yes."

"Then I would learn from you. Do you accept me?"


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR:**

 **PART ONE:**

Black terrain with visible mist composed the entirety of Sareth's vision. He was now in the back of his mind, where he expected to meet someone dear.

She stood a fair bit of distance from him, facing away, arms crossed, not saying a single thing.

None of that stopped Sareth from approaching her, encasing the woman in his strong arms as way of an apology. Noticing that this did not deter Xana in her staunchness, the young lord used his best card.

Sareth leaned in and kissed the side of her neck.

The action sent a shock throughout the woman's body, visibly electrifying her and making Xana blush feverishly, very silently yelping.

"I know you secretly hoped I would survive in the battle earlier."

She looked at her lover. Not only had Sareth managed to peer into Xana as she most of the time did to him, but the young lord had also heard the succubus's thoughts when she called out to him earlier that day.

She was the one and only reason Sareth struggled on. While chasing for the Skull... And the all of that time.

It was because of her. After all, a man becomes truly strong when he has someone to protect.

Xana was the source of his power.

Their eyes connected for a moment, but hers still betrayed a glint of fury and hate. And with the next blink, all traces of said feelings were gone, replaced by a kind and forgiving gaze. The succubus already loved him back.

"Honestly you..." She closed her eyes and leaned in so they could kiss along the release of a tear of joy.

 **PART TWO:**

Sareth and Xana sat in bed in each other's embrace. The warmth generated radiated with unrivaled vigor, despite the fact that neither one of them uttered a single word.

They didn't need words.

They spoke through feelings.

In a way, it was quite magnificent. The fact that two such as them, whom were meant to create unending chaos, could so peacefully coexist in that moment.

Perhaps it was their love. Perhaps it was also due to a different factor.

This was clearly not lust, no, a different fragrance filled the air.

Sareth suspected it. He suspected that his presence there, and well being, was the will of greater spirits.

Who those greater spirits were, the prince didn't know, nor did he attempt to find out. He merely embraced his princess in their little peaceful world. A domain which, when entered, so successfully isolated them from the conflicts and the sheer, corrosive and preposterous prudence of the outside world.

When inside, all the hate and war, all the violence and arrogance, it all vanished, being replaced by things as minuscule and insignificant such as kindness, comfort and love.

In equal manner, one would think they did not at all fit the scenario.

Regularly, you could find it fantastic to write a book where two beings, of different gender and nation, with such contradicting origin, would come together under the power of love, to defy fate and the dragon gods by setting their differences aside, uniting in sacred embrace of man and woman, and shattering the struggle between order and chaos itself.

Such treasonous acts were appropriate for only the most engorging of torments, something that only Sheog's deepest pit could accomplish.

Even then, it was lacking.

To defy the very purpose for being created, to defy your creator and supreme master, was befitting the sentence of being erased from existence, forever, and replaced with another, perfect pawn.

Such was the kind of punishment Sareth and Xana garnered.

One could also entirely argue that, once caught, the fate where the perpetrators were subjected to unspeakable torments and I'll fates in the very eyes and presence of one another was an equally if not greater punishment.

But such torment could never truly rise to the top of worst possible fates to suffer.

The reason for this was simpler than one suspects.

A god, upon creating a servant with a specific purpose, demonstrates its supremacy in controlling said servant.

But when a god has numerous pawns and one of them betrays its master in such great proportion, it weakens the supremacy of the god who created the pawn, forever reducing the creator to such low standards that it could now be ridiculed by even other pawns that follow its will.

In similar fashion, what the first servant did could lead others to repeat its action.

In such case, the master needs to enact a punishment so cruel that not even eternity of torment can compare to: being erased from existence.

Erasing the mistake, in other words, denying that that servant ever defied its master elevates said god back to its rightful place, never again to be disobeyed, for, its orders were never trampled in the first place.

It was such great magnitude of sentence that condemned Sareth.

But.

It was worth it.

It was, worth it!

Once more, love proved itself as an undeniably unmovable object in the unstoppable force's path.

That which Sareth and Xana experienced, that which the servant who disobeyed its master got, was a million times more gratifying than its original purpose.

It was also why one could so easily forsake its task and so brazenly defend its newfound interest.

What little peace the two got in that small domain of theirs, while clearly lacking, was worth every single sort of punishment imaginable.

The prince and the princess kissed, locking their lips for untold amounts of time, truly feeling trapped into an infinite yet pleasant moment.

"I love you." Every single unmoved second displayed this very sentence. Every single fragrant of reality slowly eroded into a paradise, containing myriad untold yet outstandingly clear emotions.

Though, paradise or not, it sure was dark everywhere. That was because the only thing that mattered, in that small space, was them. They were the only things which needed color and attention.

The rest was obsolete.

Shortly after, they separated lips and stared at one another once more.

Xana lowered her head and pressed Against Sareth's chest, an action that resulted in the tightening of his hug.

The princess then asked: "Will... Will you come save me?" Full of hesitation and shyness.

"What?" He answered somewhat confused.

"We... Are going to be caught, at some point..." The thought encompassed Sareth's mind, revealing onto him Xana's concern.

"I will save you." She raised her head and eyes to meet that of her lover's. "As many times as necessary."

Sareth's words immediately revealed strong determination and unopposed willpower, truly fitting a manly frame.

It was only natural, after all, that a man protect a woman.

Happiness immediately rushed the princess and their heavenly paradise shifted itself to display said emotion. The darkness of the room suddenly cleared and revealed a field of flowers with the two of them resting amidst said blossoms.

"Xana... As you once cried out to me, to not abandon you, I too wish to express the same thought to you." While this grabbed her attention, she began guessing what Sareth would next say.

"Do not abandon me."

"Never." If either one left, the other surely would be doomed to drown in sorrow and solitude, for, it would have lost that which mattered most to them in this world.

They kissed.

 **PART THREE:**

Sareth's eyes slowly widened. He had awaken from his dream alongside Xana.

The sound of burning wood and vision of purple mattress immediately gave indication to the prince where he was: in his mansion in Stonehelm, resting in bed.

There was no feeling of lifting his body and as such, the young lord merely used his head to look around.

His vision went to the right to see a most unexpected sight: Rena Falcon slept soundly alongside him in bed, though they did not have physical contact.

She was beautiful. Her hair flowed such that it covered part of her face, but left a sizable portion of it intact. Her clothing was the same as that morning: a white dress with a red stripe.

'Sareth.' The sound immediately rang alarm bells in the prince's mind.

'Y-Yes Xana?'

Though she was troubled by what they both saw, the succubus said: 'I believe I may have found a use for this Rena girl.'

'... What would that be?' Sareth was approaching the subject with great caution.

'I'm going to transfer my consciousness into her.'

"What?!" Sareth had said out loud. Her answer also made him immediately raise his upper half out of bed.

'Don't scream.' He did not scream. 'I said I'm going to transfer myself into her.'

Sareth stood dumbfounded at this. He had zero knowledge on the matter.

He literally waited there like an idiot.

Before Sareth waited the hearth which produced the heat in the room. Directly right of it was a doorway.

Through said entry point, Duncan stepped into the room.

"Milord? Praise Ylath! Lord Sareth has awoken!" While those words certainly weren't shouts, they were loud enough to echo in the big library next door.

Duncan had made way for two servants to enter the room to bring food and drinks as the young lord stared motionless. They then proceeded to stay lined up by the door, awaiting orders.

"I hope I'm not intruding Milord. We were all really worried."

"How long was I asleep?" Sareth had asked calmly.

"A matter of hours after the siege."

"The siege… How did it go?"

"The… Orcs fled. Do you not remember Milord?" The guard captain approached the bed and provided an arm for the prince to grab onto and rise up.

It was only now that Sareth realized his own armor had been removed from him and he was left in light leather garments.

"Any injuries Milord?"

"I think I'm... Fine. I don't feel any pain."

"That is good to hear." This voice was old and did not come from Duncan.

It came from the doorway that lead to the great library. A bald, bearded man stood there.

"You've managed to save Stonehelm and its inhabitants once more."

"In... Quisitor?"

"Indeed."

Aaron was dressed in what appeared to be a light robe, fashioned in a dark blue color with a brown leather chest plate, gloves and boots.

Even through all that, one could still perceive sizable muscle build up.

But it did not surpass that of Sareth.

"Uh, what happened?"

"After you fainted?"

"Eh, yeah."

"I will tell you, but as I do, eat and drink. You have been out for hours and are in need of sustenance." His voice was calm, pleased to see Sareth awake again.

Duncan made way for the young lord to proceed to the table upon which his food was placed. Hint: it was in front of the hearth.

The prince's arms and legs felt somewhat numb and devoid of life force, but he was certain sustenance would fix that right up.

Not minding the young lord, Aaron began explaining the events which took place hours ago

"After the orcs took their leader, we saw them retreating."

"They retreated?"

"Yes. Shortly after you fainted from exhaustion I believe. We quickly opened the gates and rushed to grab you. We then had a wizard cast healing magic as we hurriedly brought you to the mansion."

A thought suddenly hit Sareth. It horrified him tremendously.

'The Skull of the Seventh Dragon?!'

'Don't worry, its here.' Xana spoke.

She just took a ton of pressure off of the Dark Messiah's shoulders.

By 'it's here', the princess meant the magically forged chest Sareth just so happened to pick up from orc storage shortly after he died back at the temple. That chest lightened his burden tremendously throughout his journey.

Not only was the Demon Messiah able to hold numerous items within, but it could also be stored within the user's own mind and called upon when needed.

At the moment of discovery, Xana recognized the item as a crafting of the wizards of the Silver Cities. They specialized in the forgery of such intricate designs and powerful artifacts.

Convenient.

It was nothing new to the succubus that Sareth was the official holder of the Skull, him being the one who should have shattered the prison of Sheog, but had not.

And Xana knew exactly why. It was for that very reason that she manifested herself behind her lover, crossed her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek with both affection and her soft lips.

While this did steal his eyes for a moment, Sareth was already used to this act of love and returned his attention to the inquisitor. The succubus remained materialized and hugged him, but in a way that did not make it harder for her lover to eat.

She was by now acquainted to stealth.

Yet the young lord couldn't help but silently laugh at Xana. She gave him the impression that she thought everyone, not just women, but everyone wanted Sareth for themselves.

The thought was hilarious, even if the Xana knew it wasn't true.

"How is it that you've performed so magnificently?" Aaron asked.

Having taken a second out of the consumption of food, Sareth answered in a simply and easy to understand way: "The will of greater beings."

Though it cause Aaron and Duncan to raise their brow, Visingthor got the message: that in the moment of Stonehelm's final hour, some dragon god interfered and offered the young lord power.

For someone to shoot an arrow like that...

"In the hours that you've been recuperating, I supervised Stonehelm in your stead."

It appeared Sareth had now obtained a governor for his town. He already had Duncan as a captain of the guard, an architect, a brid...

The thought dumbstruck him.

Rena was soon to be his bride, was she not?

For what other reason could she have possibly been gifted to Sareth for?

Though it was silent, Rena's head raised from slumber. Then her body. Everybody in the room perceived that she'd awoke. The gazes which fell upon her were merciful and forgiving.

The Falcon girl stood up, silently shook her sleepy face and bowed respectfully to Sareth.

"Greetings lord Sareth. Are you feeling well?"

"Yes, I am in full health."

"That is good to hear."

"What time of day is it?"

"It is still morning Milord." Duncan had responded.

"Ah, most excellent." He returned to Rena Falcon. "I believe our last meal had been suddenly interrupted." It was ironic that the person who interrupted them was standing right there. "You must be hungry, correct?"

"Yes..." She whispered it with an almost ashamed voice.

"Come then, have a seat." She had done so whilst Duncan, the inquisitor and the servants evacuated the room either to give them peace or to bring Rena cuisines respectively.

 **PART FOUR:**

Sareth strode forward unopposed. On either side of him were crowds of people that looked upon the ruler of Stonehelm in his most glorious hour.

And his fancy armor!

The young lord had been clad in a thick, majestic plate of silver and gold that encompassed his entire being, with the exception of the head.

His chest plate, while being made of silver, had the representation of a golden falcon that spread its wings as if to stop incoming attacks and repelled them. His shoulder pads... Were big. They were big.

Clearly several layers of armors on top of other several layers had been placed there, which gave the sensation that if a sword, arrow, crossbow bolt or whatever else were to strike, they would either break or bounce off harmlessly.

His entire armor was made of hardened silver. Like Sareth's chest plate, on the right shoulder one could spot the golden form of a falcon, proudly signaling this armor's allegiance to the Empire.

The left shoulder was similar, but instead of a bird, there was the clear shape of a book open wide. Undecipherable symbols rested on those pages of gold.

This armor, while composed of silver, was trimmed with golden edges, a thing which made it truly expensive and surprisingly protective.

Sareth's gloves too were unnaturally thick. Like the shoulder pads, the gauntlets gave the impression a weak sword would break upon contact with them.

They had a golden stripe flowing down from the elbow in a straight line that ended above the hand in the symbol of a sun.

The waist guard and leggings, made of silver, displayed golden edged stripes and the knee guards were shaped like a person's face.

Just like the rest of this amazing armor, even the leggings could effortlessly deflect blows.

The thickness of the plating truly looked like Sareth wore three entire sets of armor on top of one another.

His back was adorned with a majestic red cape that reached down until his knees. Through red in color, it was impossible for the cloth to not have golden representations on it. The form was that of an Angel which stood as if to cover Sareth's back during a battle.

This had been a gift from the inquisitor.

"Though I may look strong, I have gotten old. Some of my youthful vigor has left me and I can no longer fight as fiercely as I once have. Such an encompassing and protective armor will do me little good as I am now. I gift it to you, lord Sareth, for you have proven yourself worthy of its protection." Those were the exact words which Aaron used to describe his gift.

What once was useful would continue to remain useful.

The plate of armor had been forged in Falcon's Reach, the capital of the previously existing Holy Falcon Empire. The armor was intended to be a gift to the last Falcon Emperor, but it never reached him because the ruler met his untimely demise before the gift was fully forged.

Empire's history aside, the Armor of Absolution, as its name was, had made its way through many imperial hands throughout the eras, up to the point it found Aaron's family line, whom it protected until it was gifted to Sareth.

"This armor has a habit of avoiding demon hands, meaning that it refuses to fall into their grasp. It knows what is good for the Empire and protects it with everything its got."

It was completely ironic that exactly in the hands of the Dark Messiah, the absolute possible worst person for the Empire, this armor fell.

Upon having heard all of that and having remembered that he himself was spawned out of a demon himself, Sareth merely responded to Aaron's vaunt with a mere: "That so?"

It was to be noted that at the time of armor giving, Aaron behaved as if he was gifting it to the Emperor himself. Had he come to respect Sareth that much?

But none of that mattered to the young lord as, in that moment, he strode forward in the church of Ylath, surrounded on both sides by citizens and villagers, with his lovely bride.

Just like her groom, Rena looked astonishing.

She wore a long white dress, made with only the smoothest of all the silk in the Empire. From the ground, it raised up until the chest, covered her lovely bust and extended upwards and behind her neck like the arms of a lover when the two are together.

Her hair freely flowed from her head like golden rivers and she wore a transparent bride's cap. Her hands were plugged into thin white gloves that reached past her elbows and almost touched the shoulders. Almost.

Rena's left hand held Sareth's right and her face displayed invisible embarrassment at her current situation.

She was marrying a person whom she met mere days ago, but whom displayed a figure attractive enough. And she also heard all about his feats at the siege.

In fact, most of Stonehelm had heard of it by that point.

Rena had personally interrogated him on the matter. Sareth had proven to be without a doubt worthy of ruling Stonehelm.

It was also unusual how, as they were walking in line, Sareth looked so thick in that armor while Rena looked so thin in her dress.

She walked forward slowly, embarrassed and shy, about to marry Menethil...

Hmm?

Menethil?

Yes.

The young lord, for the sake of safety, decided to take this opportunity and shift his calling.

His name after the marriage would be Menethil Falcon. But that would not stop someone like his soon to be wife from calling him Sareth every now and then.

The prince, while also feeling embarrassed, did not forget the main reason he was there.

It was not the wedding.

He was there to find out whether or not the dragon gods were rooting for him.

The fact that an orc horde, an army of Ashan, of Order, attacked him, raised suspicion in Sareth. Especially because of the fact that he was the Dark Messiah.

Actually, him being the Demon Messiah was in fact all the reason one would need in order to attack Stonehelm and erase the possibility of Sareth actually releasing the lock on Sheog.

The young lord kept his eyes facing forward at the depiction of Ylath, dragon god of air, on the wall ahead and marching almost as if to slay an enemy.

His pace was, to say the least, unfit. His bride walked a little slower than him due to her embarrassment. They had formed an astonishing image with their vestments that nearly vanished when Rena almost ended up dragged by her soon to be husband.

Anybody who did manage to break away from the illusion was under the impression that Sareth was either nervous of the situation or they thought he wanted to get it over with already so that he may return to the mansion and bang... Never mind.

Realizing what was actually happening, Sareth took his attention from the dragon and slowed down. His bride was in danger of shame.

After arriving in front, where they were to be wed, Sareth trailed his eyes behind the priest and onto the dragon carving, once more becoming alert.

'You are watching me, aren't you?'

"We have gathered here today-"

 **PART FIVE:**

"All the pieces of your plan are in place." A veiled necromancer dressed in black robes spoke while he walked besides a bald man in a gray coat.

"Is that so?" Was his only response.

It happened much sooner than expected. It was almost as if the spider goddess was shifting fate itself to be in their favor.

"The high councilors are restless on this matter."

"I do not care. I will not allow them to interfere."

"Be that as it may, there's rumor that what you are doing is endangering our way of being."

The necromancer's words had caused his conversation partner to stop in place.

He replied: "I do not care for your pathetic cult of that damn Namtaru thing."

'Mother Namtaru' was the incarnation of Asha's nightmares and was considered to be on the same level of power as the six elemental dragons.

Most necromancers of Nar Heresh worship Asha because of Mother Namtaru.

"I feared as much. But what is it that you're truly trying to do? Surely, no menial task?"

"When I and my brothers put the foundation of the Seven Cities, we ensured that my master's wisdom would continue on through all of Ashan. What we hoped to achieve most was to create a thriving environment where all of mortal kind had the ability to learn and expand upon magic. Not through religion, but through science."

"I understand this fact. But does it ensure your cooperation with us?"

The necromancer looked very concerned while the one he spoke to appeared to disregard them. All of them. Those who 'lived' in Nar-Heresh.

A human sized dark cloud instantly appeared before the two of them. It immediately gave birth to a black armored warrior, who's sword was on collision course with the gray coat.

However the assassin's momentum instantly ended when he was slammed to the ground by an unknown force.

Bones audiably broke under the strain, even if the victim was unable to feel it.

All of this happened in a second.

The necromancer took a step back out of surprise.

"Wh… G-Giovanni? Whats the meaning of this?!" He spat with both confusion and anger.

The pitiful warrior struggled to raise face so at to look at the two. His mouth jaw was in shambles.

"Most likely sent by the councilors." The gray coat had said. After that, he cast a soundless spell which fixed the broken mandible of the assassin. "Who sent you?"

"Grk- You… You do not deserve to walk these halls! Your kind… Is blissful and ignorant of the-hrgk..." His own tongue pulled out of the mouth and wrapped itself around his mouth.

"Keep this experience in mind the next time you decide to do something stupid." The one who was living among the three spoke.

The necromancer looked at the man next to him.

"Surely, you do not intend to take this seriously?"

"He is of no consequence to me… So no." The man walked past the immobilized body of the warrior.

The servant of Asha followed close by. "Thank you for your patience with our kind. Not all can tolerate us. Even blunders such as that..."

"If a skeleton walked up to a peasant and provided him with protection from wolves at night, he too would be tolerated." The gray coat imparted obvious wisdom as they walked. "It is within one self to make those around him friendly or hostile. It seems your high councilors understood that."

"Sadly, they only understand that getting in your way is bery hazardous."

The possibility of Nar Heresh breaking into outright war with the gray coat was high. And even if it sounded like the necromancers had the advantage, they truly, truly did not.

Such great power this man possessed that he endangered the entirety of necromancy and Asha's faithful. It was for this reason alone that the high councilors tolerated him: they simply were not able to oppose.

They reached this destination: a chamber at the end of the hallway. The first thing to be spotted as the two entered the room was a desk. More important than the desk was that which stood upon it.

Or rather... Levitating.

It was a Shantiri crystal.

The same one Arantir used in order to open a gateway to Nar Heresh and the same one Sareth used in the temple of air in order to obtain the Skull of Shadows.

The gray coat walked behind the desk and sat down.

The necromancer took a seat opposite of him. He then asked: "What are your intentions, Sar-Issus?"

The response was calm and adequate: "I only wish to teach a pupil."


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE:**

 **PART ONE:**

Rena walked through the immense library, wearing a pale white dress and holding two hot cups of tea on a plate in her hands.

Like the first time she actually set foot in there, Rena was amazed. The library of Stonehelm was every bit as impressive as Visingthor described it to be.

Tall bookcases occupied most of her vision as they formed walls of wood and pages, guiding the young heiress to her destination.

At a round table sat a man, wearing fine silk robes and leather boots. His eyes were locked onto the book in his hands, but his gaze shifted focus as Rena approached.

Ever since her marriage with Sar... Menethil, she could feel intense love for him every time they'd be together. That time was no different.

She proceeded to place the cups on the table as her husband's eyes followed her and she wordlessly gave him a kiss.

After the short union, Rena's hair shifted to a charcoal black. Her face too changed to better represent a different person that smiled back happily. This of course was a change only Menethil could see.

The transfer had been successful.

Xana had left the Demon Messiah's conscience and had taken residence within Rena Falcon.

The way she'd achieved this was through the sacred unification of man and woman after the marriage. In reality, it was Rena Falcon who obtained Sareth's manhood.

As per Menethil's instructions, Xana could not take control of Rena at will. The cause for this was so that it would not raise any suspicion within Rena Falcon after the transfer.

In truth, a little bit of difference in behavior was to be expected of a woman after she married. But knowing Xana and how jealous she could get if other women were around her lover, Menethil decided to limit her activity overall.

So as to not raise unwanted suspicion from the residents of Stonehelm, Rena would be in control of the body most of the time. But so that the succubus would not get jealous and do something irreparable, Xana would have control when the two lovers were together.

Of course, the princess had to make sure that Rena was completely unaware of the succubus's presence there. She was ordered to do so by not obscuring Rena's vision when she was in control and by using her magic to truly make the girl believe that what she did was of her own will.

This level of performance was only possible because Xana had 'nested' within the Demon Messiah for some time now. This in turn, empowered the succubus to become something greater than even a lilim.

But most importantly, Xana had separated herself from Kha-Beleth, Urgash, the realm of Sheog and had done so only because of Sareth's power. She could now die and not have her soul absorbed by the dragon of chaos.

The Dark Messiah truly brought freedom to all of demon kind.

But that did raise one question: what would Xana's soul do after she died?

This concept brought filled her with fear whenever she thought about it.

Until she'd met the young prince, like any other demon, Xana didn't fear death because she knew her soul would always flow back to Urgash to be revived in Sheog.

Now it no longer could.

She'd bonded herself with the Demon Messiah and had now become vulnerable to the concept of mortality.

But like any great fear, relief and happiness had to follow shortly after it.

The knowledge that her soul no longer returned to Sheog filled Xana with twice as much joy, for it now gave her the possibility of dying a tragic but romantic death, just like in children's bedtime stories.

The princess sat in her husbands lap.

 **PART TWO:**

The pit lord stood watching; his eyes tracked every movement the warrior made.

This human clad in light black armor with a cape, skewered through lines of demons in a motion so accurate and flexible, you'd think he was dancing.

It gave you the impression he was sylvan.

But he wasn't.

And what was worse, his speed and reflexes seemed to surpass that of all sylvan blade dancers. Except that unlike them, this human only had one weapon.

His blade was an unnaturally long, long sword, with a thickness to match it, but by no means a hulking chunk of metal. One would not be wrong in saying that the human's weapon was three times bigger than any normal sized one.

By all humane standards he had a monster of a weapon.

And the way he wielded it put the most honed and elder of blade masters to deep and ever lasting shame.

The pit lord hated it.

Towering figure as he was, he looked down at how his troops were being cut into.

This human... He fought as if he had eyes in the sky. What that meant was that the warrior always saw an attack coming, even without looking, and always retaliated before his attackers hit him.

Either with great luck or skill, this adversary managed to reduce an army of hundreds of demons to a small handful.

When they attempted to flee, he gave chase. Now, their backs were against the wall due to one single individual.

The blow that dealt to the pit lord's pride was enormous.

With thundering speed, the warrior jumped right through five lesser demons in an almost untraceable motion, which in turn caused said spawns of Sheog to explode in bloodied bits.

All the demon gore which lied on the ground formed a bloodied road filled with corpses. It stretched for kilometers.

The human's dash led him right before a juggernaut, which was already swinging its hammer like hands to crush the opponent. But the blow never landed.

The nimbleness of this warrior was unbelievable. He had ducked right before being hit.

Equally astonishing, his sword motion was finely attuned to his style of fighting. What that meant was that, while performing the duck, his sword was already on a well calculated route to severing the juggernaut in half, horizontally.

This whole scene took a mere second. The demon did not even have time to perceive what happened and it was already dead.

The pit lord hated it.

Left of the scene was a succubus. Shew attempted to cast flame from her feeble hands, yet was surprised when the human turned her way and rushed her position at lightning speed. In an instant, her arms fell off, courtesy of a falling blade. Next, her head parted her body. The body fell backwards.

She was permitted no time to even scream of pain or surprise as the human's weapon claimed her life.

The pit lord hated it, but he had patience.

A Sheog warlock was next on the menu, who stood several meters forward and channeled a dark spell. One which he never got to finish as the long blade of the warrior impaled itself in his chest.

In a very quick motion, the human pulled back his sword and inspected it. It had gotten quite bloody and had lost some of its everyday morning polish.

He swung once through the air and blew all the liquid off of his precious weapon even before the body of his last victim managed to touch the ground.

Three hell hounds skipped body over body in order to get a bite of him.

When they got close, the warrior's sword struck upwards like thunder onto the first hound, an action which sliced the mutt in half. This strike also held magic into it which severed the dog halves in a thousand tiny pieces and directly blasted them at the other two pack members.

Th bits of flesh penetrated like steel bolts which severed bones and muscle alike.

Like a prediction, the warrior raised his free hand into the sky and blocked actual lighting headed for him.

The one who casted this was a second succubus, who remained completely stunned at the act.

He however was not dumbfounded at all and immediately leaped close to the female demon. She felt only half a second of suspense before her horned head was on a direct path to the ground.

And the body? The warrior found it funny to kick it right in the direction of the pit lord's face.

It snapped.

The pit lord raised its left hand upwards and slammed it onto the ground maddeningly. This action immediately sent red burning pillars of flaming hatred in every direction, which hit absolutely everything in a ten meter radius.

All that was caught in the inferno became scorched black.

Be it ally, enemy, live or dead, be it the air, the ground, it all burned.

Except for the main target of the attack.

How so?

The attack was simply too slow. He had only a second to jump out of the blast radius, but that second was a hundred times more than what he needed.

This pit lord had been given a sizable army to destroy a sylvan sanctuary named the 'Tree of Serenity'.

But progress was invisible as this unstoppable warrior halted their advance.

Truthfully speaking, his actual target was this human all along, though the demon had not been told of it.

Now was the pit lord's time to either fight or die. He raised his enormous broken sword and disappeared in flames.

The demon instantly appeared right before the human, whom only looked up, bored.

The broken great sword fell too... Slow.

The warrior grabbed onto his own blade and slammed it against that of the pit lord's, forcing it to hit the ground instead.

He hated that!

The human then brought his sword to bare and sliced the demon's right hand clean off the wrist. He'd done so intentionally so at to make the spawn of Sheog angry.

The demon hated that.

Hate. Hate! HATE!

A single powerful roar caused an inferno of hatred of tush out the pit lord's mouth, aimed directly at the daring adversary, whom was forced to avoid the attack.

The flame which bursted out created a line of fire ten meters long on top the of the bloodied demon corpses amidst the fields of grass. The fire began eating away at everything in it touched.

Immediately after, the warrior leaped over the remains of its attack and placed a diagonal swing onto the pit lord's own face, eliminating its eyes permanently.

The demon pulled its head back reflexively and spat fire out of its mouth in a roar of pain.

Next, it only took the fiend a meager second to notice the sharp metallic object which happened to make its way though his chest.

The fire streaming off its mouth stopped.

The beast's blood too now watered the blades of grass beneath its hooves.

 **PART THREE:**

"This information here is only half true. Tormentors don't always spill their inner fluids all over their opponents." Xana informed the one in whose arms she sat.

She really, really liked diverting Sareth's attention from the study of useful information and onto her. Hence, why she sat in his lap.

Menethil forbid her from attempting to copulate with him during important study hours.

The regular punishment for Xana were she not to respect her lovers wish was to lock her conscience away for… usually two days. In this time, Menethil intentionally made love to Rena Falcon instead.

The succubus's danger meter spiked at the announcing of said punishment.

In fact, she should not have been there with him at that time, but it just so happened to be that Xana had quite great expertise on the matter at hand.

Menethil was studying demons in order to know how to best them in battle when the time came.

The book he was units was surely something that most, if not all, the army commanders of the Empire had read and learned.

It was a book of tactics and strategies, gifted to the young lord by the old man Aaron.

Except that most of the stuff there like enemy forces and even units at his own disposal, the Dark Messiah had never before heard of or even actually seen.

Like what on Asha's green earth was a 'radiant glory'? What was that, what even was that?

Xana attempted to explain it to him, but failed. There was no way in Sheog that she'd ever tell Menethil that a radiant glory was a shining naked woman made of light. That was guaranteed to take his eyes off the succubus and make them go into happy land, in search of light born ladies.

She kept quite a tight hold over the young lord...

Menethil flipped the next page and a new subject came into view: succubus.

"Oh, its about you."

"That's not about me!" She said revolted and hurriedly moved to the next page.

The Dark Messiah shot her a confused look.

"Umm..."

"Don't even think about it!"

"Wha..."

"You have me!"

Menethil got even more confused because he had no idea what his lover was talking about.

"Okay look... We..." Rena fell unconscious onto Sareth's shoulder.

Xana pulled Menethil back into the realm inside his mind, where the darkness and the white mist resided encompassed all that the eye could see. His sight fell upon her, standing in front of him, in her true demon form.

The one with horns, wings and tail.

"I... I was once a human who turned to chaos for my own reason. When I died, I was reborn in Sheog the way you know me to be."

Menethil already knew all of this. Xana had told him everything after they'd first united in sacred embrace of man and woman. She told him how she'd conjured an imp in the pocket of her would-be-lover and how she was burned on a stake afterwards, only to wake up in Sheog decades later.

Xana had been in search of a true lover ever since.

"Succubus in general are women who turn to chaos for whatever reason. What you need to know about the... Umm, about us, is that we have shape shifting abilities and are often used as infiltration units for information."

She had forgotten to mention the part where succubus were masters of deception, who trapped men with their immaculate bodies and sent them straight into the mouth of Sheog.

The good thing, at least, was that if one such demon was to try to charm Menethil, Xana was able to sense it and act in time. But that wasn't to say that the Dark Messiah had no form of defense against charm magic.

"The majority of succubus are capable of shooting fire through our hands. Though very few of us are actually able to cast spells. I am part of those few. I arrived at a high position relatively quickly..."

"And yet, a slave to my father you were."

Xana looked down in shame. The one thing she did not like to admit was how she was a servant of Kha-Beleth, for... It could have implanted within Sareth the illusion that Xana had been used by the demon sovereign as an object of lust.

It was the one thing she wanted to avoid most.

"S-Sareth... I love you and only you." She began courageously. "There was never another and I will continue to love only you!"

She had said it all almost as if pleading to once more swear loyalty.

A sigh of relief caused Menethil to shift his suspecting gaze into his normal eyes. With a kind voice, he said: "I believe you."

Though it was not surprising, it lightened her shoulders and lifted her heart. She knew that if spoke the truth, Menethil accepted and forgave the princess of all her wrong doings.

But this was also a thing she hated.

By doing this, she forced her lover to reveal his weak side. The same side that embraced her during cold nights and leaves him exposed to poisonous words.

The succubus both loved and hated it.

Xana floated to Menethil, who raised his arms to catch her.

 **PART FOUR:**

The young lord's eyes slowly opened to discover he'd been asleep. Yet his consciousness returned to full functionality rather quickly.

On his lap sat the still sleeping body of Rena.

The table in front of him no longer had cups on it. The young lord drew the conclusion that a servant must have come by while he and Xana were forni… Slept… And must have picked them up.

A second of concentration allowed Menethil to take hold of Rena's body and stand up. Xana was resting.

Upon turning around however, the young lord noticed a bearded man several meters away, who waited patiently.

"Greetings lord Menethil, have you slept soundly? Are you in need of any more rest?"

"I believe I have. Aaron, you stood watch?" He had not called Visingthor as 'inquisitor' because the old man had retired from the job when he gave Sareth his armor.

"I have Milord."

"And the city?"

"There is currently no emergency, as I would have been alerted. Constructions are going as planned and there is in fact no orc horde at our gate either." Jokingly spoken of the past...

If one was curious, the only reason why Aaron had not asked, or even thought of helping Menethil with carrying Rena Falcon, was because it was forbidden to touch her.

It was a sort of, 'I will cut your head if you even think of thinking about my wife' kind of thing.

Yeah... That was basically how stuff was done in the human hierarchy.

Not everybody had even the privilege of gazing upon the wife of a duke or a ruler.

Menethil shifted sight from Visingthor and started heading towards his chambers. Aaron began following close by to see if he could be of any use.

At the bed, the prince placed Rena down and covered her. He displayed care as a proper husband would. Before leaving, the young lord stood a second to look at his bride.

… Never thought the day would come...

When he was done, Menethil walked outside the chamber, where Visingthor waited, and spoke to the old man: "Is there any sort of news I should be aware of?"

"Milord, travelers visited our tavern today and brought word of an artefact located south of Stonehelm. They claimed it to be of great value, but have also mentioned that it is guarded."

"By what?"

"By a behemoth."

Menethil rubbed his chin as he was considering the pluses and minuses.

"Any information on what the artifact could be, besides 'of great value'?"

Aaron shook his head. "It could be a waste of time in my opinion."

"There's no orc horde at our gates today or tomorrow. We can spend some time on this."

"As your liege commands." Sareth headed back into his chambers.

 **PART FIVE:**

The Tree of Serenity strongly adhered to its name. That meant that under no circumstance was its sylvan population allowed to become warriors.

Not one of its inhabitants had combat experience or the training necessary. What they did have were bodies for manual labor such as wood cutting and climbing branches in search of fruits.

Hunters were not needed as mother nature provided them with ample fruits and vegetables from their giant tree home. And the only meat they ate was from dead herbivores found in the nearby forest.

So how exactly did one such peaceful population defend its home?

They were not permitted to be warriors.

But, there was one exception to the rule...

The law only specified no sylvan fighters. It did not mention anything about human warriors.

Reilight was one such individual.

One of the very few who were brave enough to strove so deep within the lands of Irrolan.

He alone bested no less than three entire separate chaos armies within the span of ten days. Word of this achievement had spread quick and the elves immediately granted him access to any sylvan sanctuary.

At that time, Reilight walked at the higher branches of the Tree of Serenity. He was politely greeted by each elf on the way and even offered gifts of thankfulness.

But he never took any.

The usual attire of sylvan elves were garbs made of silk and covered with a sewn web of natural green leaves. Such costumes ranged from simple waist skirts to full blown costumes that covered almost the entirety of the body.

Reilight walked towards an male elf who was dressed in a simple leaf skirt. At the time, he was sat down reading a book in quiet.

"Ah, Reilight." The elf's voice was old and tempered. He stood up.

"Tallaren. Tell me, when does the next sylvan army pass by the tree?"

Aforementioned elf raised an eyebrow but responded nonetheless: "Three weeks time. Why?"

"I intend to leave." The response surprised Tallaren.

"Given our current situation, this is most troubling news."

"How so?"

"I was just informed that the high seer wishes to speak with you. He is on his way from the great tree itself. He should be here in three weeks time."

"Its him they're protecting?"

"Yes… But tell me, why is it you want to leave?"

"Because this place is boring. All you folk seem to do is talk to tree spirits or read books."

Tallaren broke a small laughter. "Its funny to hear that from the outside. Were you born here, you too would be talking to tree spirits and reading books."

Reilight clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"But do tell me..." The elf asked. "What of Efinata and Elrita? Will you be taking them to where you're going?"

"That is none of your concern."

"It is my concern, for they are my sister."

The two shared a momentary stare with minimal amounts of conflict present. But in the end, the elf broke the silence.

"I hope you don't do something you'll regret."

Reilight broke the eye lock and began walking past Tallaren onto the branched pathway of the tree's upper part.

But as he left, the elf said one final thought: "May Sylanna bless your path."

A few minutes later, Reilight reached his destination: a small room which served as his home for the stay there.

The door was composed of a wooden frame covered with a webbing of green leaves.

Our human had no difficulty gaining entry. Once inside the small room, Reilight was greeted by a mostly empty room, save for a large bed... and the two elves upon it.

One Efinata, the younger of the two, and the other, Elrita. Both of which were twin sisters and both of which were incredibly beautiful.

They had golden hair, charismatic figures, broad eyes filled with naivety, slim bodies, large pairs of frontal knockers and amazing backsides.

At the time, they were both sat in bed, half naked, on top of one another.

Yet they quickly got up and rushed to Reilight to caress him with the flesh of their bodies and mouths.

"Good timing." Elrita spoke.

"We were just getting started." Efinata continued. "Come to join us?"

Half the reason Reilight even lifted a finger to protect the Tree of Serenity were these two girls. The other half was his craving for battle.

"Yeah." A solid response.

Seconds later, all forms of clothing had been cast aside and the three were sank full in carnal pleasure.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX:**

 **PART ONE:**

Menethil looked up, the breeze of air managing to thwart his hair backward, slightly pissing the young lord off. But that was not the original reason he looked up.

The Dark Messiah had caught sight of something flying in the distance. It was impossible to tell exactly what it was because of how far away the momentary appearance of a black dot in his sight was, but Menethil hoped that whatever it represented did not endanger his little joy walk.

The young lord had taken the few legionnaires and marksmen whom served Aaron as bodyguards for this short trip south of Stonehelm. In total, the men who accompanied him were sixteen in number, ten legionnaires and six marksmen.

Riding on his horse leisurely and wearing regular nobleman clothing, Menethil approached his destination: the behemoth's lair.

If fate willed it, or more precisely, if the dragon gods willed it, an unseen arrow could have flown out of nowhere and killed the Demon Messiah. For exactly this scenario it was that Menethil had activated 'Sanctuary', a spell which engulfed the caster in an invisible egg like shell whose protection varies depending upon one's own magical power.

That powerful barrier which deflected everything both physical and magical in nature required constant mana feeding to remain active. The Dark Messiah truly thought things through when it came to that as well for he had disguised his mana potions in regular wine bottles.

To the simple unknowing man, he would look just like a soon to be fat and drunk noble, an easy target for a band of professional bandits and thieves. Sixteen foot soldiers of the Empire wouldn't mean much to a hundred or so raiders.

However, if these attackers were by themselves, they could never have possibly guessed that the noble in question would actually be the Dark Messiah himself.

Of course, most of these defenses would be useless against the dragon gods, as they would in all likely hood have seen through it all and would have already plotted a strategy that was sure to end in Menethil's demise.

"We have arrived Milord." One of the legionnaires spoke, snapping Menethil from his trance. The reason they knew the way was because the prince gave the map to the lieutenant in charge of his bodyguards.

Ahead of them was a big archway of stone at the base of a great hill that almost managed to achieve mountain status, but not quite. The grass beneath it was sullied with some kind of black substance.

Sareth didn't know what it was, but it didn't smell nor did it detach from the greenery beneath to stick onto his boot when he stepped off the horse.

Clearly, the taint was quite old. If it was caused by the behemoth, then that would have been a perfect indicator to how long the beast had nested there, feeding off the land.

It would have been a real problem if Sareth, back when he was Phenrig's pupil, had gotten lost on his way to Stonehelm and ended up there instead.

How would things have turned out? Would his frail weak self from back them have been able to face a behemoth and survive? Or would he have perished pathetically? Sareth would have definitely attempted to survive with all his might, but Menethil...

Maybe things would have been better for the entirety of Ashan should Sareth have never reached Stonehelm with the Shantiri crystal.

Should he have actually died, wouldn't Xana have just revived him like back in the Air Temple?

Maybe...

Maybe not...

Today, for the Dark Messiah to have gotten lost and killed in such a manner was simply unacceptable, even if it was for the better of Ashan, because... The prince found a reason to keep on living.

Xana.

After finishing his little flash back, Menethil summoned the Armor of Absolution and minimized the Sanctuary spell so that it only covered his head, lowering the mana drain per second and overall cost of the barrier.

Not requiring to take a sip every five minutes was most definitely an advantage in combat, not that the Dark Messiah's mana pool was something to laugh at and ridicule.

Even the most talented sorcerer or wizard would struggle to keep Sanctuary up more than ten seconds. Sure, the Archmage of the silver cities could probably keep it up for a minute at full force, but exhaust his entire mana pool doing so. If he were to drink potions like Sareth had, then the Archmage's body would most likely collapse after ten minutes of holding up the barrier.

Menethil casted Sanctuary when leaving Stonehelm and was maintaining it still. The trip took two hours.

Two. Hours!

And he was still not finished.

Every legionnaire there was massively impressed. Not because of Sareth's proficiency with sorcery, but because he seemingly made old man Aaron's armor appear out of nowhere. Equipped, even!

"I shall go alone from now on. Remain here and guard the entrance."

"Yes Milord."

There was a long visible pathway up the hill, the black taint possibly leading the way towards the behemoth's lair.

 **PART TWO:**

Roughly ten minutes of marching up the small mountain, Menethil caught smell of a foul scent. It was so nasty that the young lord thought he was going to puke because of it.

As such, the Dark Messiah immediately casted an enchantment on himself for the purpose of avoiding that putrid, fetid and rotten air. The enchantment would make it so that it does not get to the young lord, nor touch his armor.

Two more minutes later, while not at the top of the miniature mountain, the prince had reached a pond. What was so fascinating about this pond, while in and of itself wasn't all that impressive, was what sat in it.

The behemoth.

It turned head to display an extremely surprised look at having been discovered by someone during its bathing hour- bathing in piss, taint and all manor of liquid misery -and it got up furiously.

But Menethil hadn't given it a chance to act as he thrusted his hands forwards, a blazing inferno emanating from the middle of his palms, engulfing the animal in complete and utter hell.

Perhaps it should have been to nobody's surprise when the beast roared and emerged from the fire unscathed. Thing was, it did surprise Menethil.

The young lord immediately stopped casting his inferno of flame and raised hands so as to catch the impossibly big fist that came down on his position. When it hit, the ground beneath Menethil was pressed down about twenty centimeters.

While this did not represent a problem for the Dark Messiah, the behemoth volunteered to free the young lord by grabbing him with its free hand, lifting and throwing him overhead.

Menethil had impacted a tree and went through it, breaking it and all others in his path until he reached the fifth one. And believe me, those were some thick ass trees.

But, testimony to the fact that only the hands of the behemoth were as big as Menethil was, the prince actually coughed out blood when gravity forced him to collide with the ground once more.

Any human or humanoid other than the Dark Messiah would have instantly died from such an impact, with and without the Armor of Absolution. The fact that he survived was testimony to all the dark and horrid wounds Sareth suffered to get the Skull and the immaculate physique he had acquired in his journey.

Not to mention his heritage.

Having taken a quick sip off of a wine bottle, Menethil realized he had lost all his other potions of mana due to the collision with the trees: they now lay shattered with their juices spilled all over the trunk of the tree.

'Shit.' The prince thought to himself, but there came no response from a would be princess.

Xana was not with him at that moment.

The Demon Messiah got up as he heard the behemoth roaring loudly, a clear indicator of danger. He placed his bottle back at his waists and healed himself.

The healing spell restored his vigor and vitality fully, permitting Menethil to fight as if he hadn't just flew through five trees.

Except his broken wine bottles begged to differ.

He stepped out of the forest section and unto the open area. The prince noticed his previous spell had completely turned the washing pond into a burning pit of tar or something, for it was completely set on fire.

This fact in itself clearly angered the behemoth further and caused it to charge with its ape like physique at Menethil. A few minor fires still burned on its body without causing any kind of damage.

But the only form of revenge came in the shape of a lightning fast attack, thundering into the behemoth through the materialized edge of Soulrend, diagonally slashing into the animal's chest. Menethil had stopped at only one slash in order to dodge the collapsing body of his adversary.

Lying down on the ground and requiring a moment to rest, the young lord took this time and charged lightning into Soulrend, raising blade with both hands, gathering energy and force for a mighty slash.

When the blade fell, the behemoth spasmed violently due to both the might and magic that fueled the strike as well as the soul stealing ability of Soulrend.

The beast was truly hurt, beginning to release tears from both its eyes, but not before slamming the young lord's position with its massive fist, missing successfully.

Sareth had jumped back to a location that revealed a tall burning pond of flames behind him, truly giving the behemoth the image that he fought some kind of monster of a human.

It became scared by this to the point of turning around and leaping a great distance across the mountain.

"Oh come on!" The beast had ditched him, fleeing scared.

The Dark Messiah supposed he should have expected that outcome, after all, he was not just a simple man. His prey, like any other mortal being, had feelings, one of which was fear.

Fear in itself was not evil. Fear told people when they were vulnerable and what they were weak to. Once these factors were known, anybody could have changed in order to address it properly.

After he sighed, Menethil turned his attention to the flaming pond. He had extended a hand. The fire burned out and shifted until it transformed into energy which the prince absorbed.

The Messiah next had to go through the arduous and tedious task of searching for the behemoth once more.

After all, the beast was not quite beat yet.

Two minutes later, a scream filled the air, one which Menethil deduced was from the monster he was searching for.

 **PART THREE:**

Having rushed after it, the Demon Messiah now found himself staring dumbfounded. The scream he heard minutes ago was indeed of the behemoth, but now, a much more dangerous foe lurked above it.

It was a rider; black hood and armor, face shrouded in darkness, wielding what could be described as a giant black scythe. It rode on a skeletal horse.

A reaper of Asha.

The moment it pulled its weapon off of the behemoth's corpse was when Sareth truly understood how nasty that scythe actually was. It was a long double bladed weapon that had protrusions, spikes and an all around raspy form.

It was so stunning that it forced the young lord to imagine himself being slashed in half by said weapon.

That which so successfully enraptured Menethil into a trance was the 'Fear of the Grave', or 'Fear of Death' effect which surrounds the harbingers of Asha, immediately frightening all foes which look directly at the reaper, granting them a vision of their death.

Such a spell most of the time does a perfect job of rendering the enemy unable to fight due to fear of the reaper, who would just usually go and kill them with little effort.

The ghostly apparition, having gotten used to the 'Fear of the Grave' effect, began galloping slowly towards Menethil, not realizing what it should have: who it was that it truly faced.

When it's scythe was about to land, the Demon Messiah broke free of the trance and dashed back two meters, avoiding the incoming blow by the skin of his teeth.

The young lord then raised Soulrend, bringing it to bare alongside his head as if wanting to thrust at the reaper. This menacing stance put the monstrous rider on active offense.

"I! See! Your! Death!" It had bellowed in an utterly ghostly, skeletal and nightmarish voice at Menethil, intending to scare him but managing only to bolster his defense and tighten his guard.

That which the reaper did not understand most was why it did not actually see the prince's lifespan. If it could have seen it, it would have just snapped at it with its skeletal fingers and the Dark Messiah would be no longer.

That was exactly the thing: it did not know its opponent was of such high caliber.

If the rider actually knew who it was that Asha sent him there to face, the reaper would have begun to taste and understand the same kind of fear it itself usually brings about on a battle field.

If the rider was not going to make a move, Menethil would. Dashing forward in a straight line, Soulrend pierced the skeletal horse right in the chest, causing it to raise on its two back legs and produce pain noises.

But at the same time, the rider leaned forward and swinged from the right, forcing Menethil to divert one of his hands and task it with catching the scythe, a thing he successfully achieved.

This fact in itself immensely surprised the reaper, never having it thought possible for someone to actually stop his weapon.

In truth, it was impossible to even touch a reaper of Asha. The only way one could achieve interaction with one such death bringer was to be especially attuned with any one of the dragon gods.

Being the son of the demon sovereign, the Dark Messiah was aligned to Urgash and thus, had what he needed. Not only was he expected to interact with the servants of Asha, but it was more than anticipated of him to slaughter them all.

Something unusual occurred: Soulrend was stuck inside the horse. But that was of little concern as the young lord started his next attack.

Flame took swathe over the prince's arms, a stern look on his face, and in a moments notice, the reaper was engulfed in a blazing inferno, spiraling upwards like a tornado of flame.

Once more, something ever more unusual occurred: the reaper hadn't died but instead, somehow fused with Soulrend inside the fire and flame.

It shrieked violently as its new body revealed itself: a gigantic ghostly skeleton covered in a black robe and hood, wielding an enormous scythe. This time however, its visage was perfectly visible, radiating with new found power along with the rest of its body beneath the robes.

This was bad. Not only had Menethil lost his most prominent weapon, but he had also left his magical inventory, the Skull and all other items with Xana and Rena. But as bad as this all was, it was not the worst case scenario.

The Dark Messiah channeled the remainder of his mana and immediately struck the reaper with a heavenly bolt of thunder, so devastating that it might have even killed an entire regiment of legionnaires if used in a battle field.

The reaper was barely fazed by it.

'Shit!' The young lord thought to himself as his adversary swung its scythe upwards from a near ground position, hitting Menethil right in the chest, more specifically in the symbol of the golden falcon, and piercing right through it with absolutely no difficulty, like a ghost going through a wall of iron.

The Dark Messiah had been sent flying...

 **PART FOUR:**

Slowly waking from his unconscious state, it took Menethil a good minute of staring at the muddy ground in order to realize why he was looking at filth and much in the first damn place.

He immediately jolted up supported by his arms, as the smell woke him for good. The young lord then noticed that his head hurt... Was his Sanctuary spell disabled? His enchantment anti smell wore off too. And with his mana potions broken...

Raising to his feet with incredible effort, the prince clinged to the wall to his left for support. His eyes now fully took in his surroundings.

Menethil was in a cave, facing the exit as displayed by the fact that he was looking at the clouds outside. Clouds? That prompted the young lord to take steps forward, through the mud and filth, through the unbearable stench, to obtain view of the outside world.

He was really up high.

Remembering how he had been launched by the reaper, the Demon Messiah arrived at the conclusion that he was now at the peak of the small mountain hill. More precisely, he was in the cave of the behemoth, if the smell was any indicator to that fact.

Menethil had only now realized of the one reason he was still breathing: his left shoulder pad had constantly been emanating some sort of light. The golden book with myriad scribing's onto it emanated light at small velocity, clearly indicating that it was casting a protective spell upon the wearer, perhaps healing him.

The prince figured out that much. He would have to thank old man Aaron once again.

And then, Menethil turned around...

... It glowed... It burned vigorously... It called to him without a voice...

It was magnificent.

The Dark Messiah found himself staring dumbly at the artefact after which he had went there in the first place: a sword half buried into the ground.

Even so, it was beautiful enough to speak volumes.

From the looks of things, it appeared to be a large one edged blade, possibly made of silver.

After he snapped out of his trance, Menethil took steps towards the weapon. It burned entirely as if it was revolted at the stench of the cave and the situation it was in.

Having arrived right in front of it, the young lord waited patiently for the flames to dim down in the slightest so that he could pick it up. No such event happened.

When the young lord's patience reached its limit, he said fuck it.

The aftermath of grabbing the sword by its hilt with both hands turned out to be a regretful decision as the prince was shot with immense amounts of pain. However it was not due to the fire which engulfed the blade, no, but to a different factor.

As the flame began swallowing the Dark Messiah, the young lord found himself in an entirely different place: he was now in a lake of lava, standing on a molten piece of... Rock? Inside of a volcano? Wha...

Surprisingly enough, the blade was there with Menethil and it forced him to find out the hard way that that he could not take his hands off it.

A noise happened.

It was some sort of grumbling, or of a wail of some sort.

Having cocked his head up, Menethil saw the perpetrator: a dragon.

Immediately realizing the danger, the Dark Messiah struggled to detach his hands from the blade. He couldn't.

Despite the heat and the severely high temperature of that pit of lava, Menethil's blood ran cold the moment he saw the dragon of flame raise its head and look directly towards him. He then turned as small as an ant when the beast got up and began charging at him through the lava. Or at least he wanted to.

The beast only stopped when its head was directly above Menethil and only when the prince wished he had never ever touched the blasted sword in the first place. He deeply urged himself to reduce his size ten times smaller than that of an ant so that the dragon would not see him.

"WHO SEEKS MY TOOTH? ... YOU?!" The dragon bellowed in a rage induced voice, completely and utterly making Menethil shit himself.

It was a fact that the Dark Messiah had bested larger than life beasts in his journey to find the Skull of the Seventh, a thing that rendered him virtually fearless against most opponents. But... That was just it: he did not fear MOST opponents.

That meant that a few still caused him to shudder in their sight, to wake up full of sweat at night and seek the embrace of his sweet wife...

... One such adversary was Kha-Beleth, his own father, and... The dragon gods...

"WHY DO YOU SEEK MY TOOTH? SPEAK!" A demand whose reply was so silent it was actually whispered for no one but Menethil to hear and understand.

He had closed his eyes, sweating heavily under the intense pressure and praying for dear life to... Whomever still cared about him... That he would make it through to tomorrow.

There were arguably few people who could say with certainty they wished him any good.

But there was truly only one person who absolutely desired to see him utterly and completely safe and sound. But most of all, one who wished him to be victorious against all odds.

"Xana..." Having been whispered so quietly, the dragon believed it a waste of its time to continue to study this warrior and just adopted option number two: it swallowed Menethil. Gulped him down in one single go with the sword and a portion of the ground on which he stood.

Raising head up, it ingurgitated; a large chunk of stuff visible in its neck, going downwards...

It fell into its stomach, clearly indicating the swallowed one's fate.

But it was not so. The dragon felt it powerfully when it happened: the Dark Messiah busted right through the bowels of the dragon, splattering flaming insides everywhere and causing the beast to shriek violently at the pain.

Having stepped on solid ground once more, Menethil shook his fear and readied for combat. The flaming sword was now in his grasp, unearthed. And it was a MONSTER of a weapon!

Its length surpassed that of the young lord's height. Its width was five times that of Soulrend and its weight... Was a hell of a lot more! To hit with such a weapon, even without flame, was sure to cause one Sheog of a disaster.

What he now had was an ultra great sword of truly awe inspiring might. Menethil couldn't wait to march through the gates of Stonehelm with that thing on his shoulder! Well... That assumed he found a way out of the volcano first...

Being snapped from his dreams by the enraged dragon, the Dark Messiah returned gaze and focused on the task at hand: slaying the beast.

It was desperately clawing at its chest, trying to keep itself in one piece despite the giant hole in its core while also menacingly shrieking at Menethil.

The prince took hold of his weapon with both arms and began charging, jumped, then plunged the dragon's location with the sword at the ready, immediately causing the beast to liquefy into lava and slide through the rock cracks beneath its feet down into the fiery lake.

"ENOUGH!" It bellowed. "YOU ARE WORTHY. I SHALL PERMIT YOU USAGE OF MY TOOTH!" The thought of being slain with one's own tooth was ridiculous, shameful and amusing!

Flame rupture from the sword, engulfing Menethil fully and darkening his vision. Minutes later, he awoke right back in the cave, both arms holding his new blade up.

The young lord looked at it for a second, before deciding to name it 'Dragontooth'. Now that he had a serene moment of peace, he could better analyze his newfound prize. More specifically, now he noticed the rune marks along half the sword's length in a red color.

But he was disturbed. The reaper appeared just outside the cavern's exit, alerting Menethil.

The Dark Messiah gritted his teeth, reminded of that which sent him flying through the daylight sky. Assuming fighting position, Dragontooth lit itself ablaze due to its wielder's thoughts and feelings: of battle and anger.

On one side, Menethil had to be grateful to the reaper, for it allowed him to find the 'valuable artifact' much faster. By no means did it allow him to find the artefact, it just sped up the process. He was going to find it anyway if he just killed the behemoth and started searching in all corners of that uphill.

'Beware, for if it hits you again, you will die for good. Such is the power they wield.' The voice was quiet, a silent whisper, spoken by a female for sure.

Menethil immediately sensed from where it came: the Armor of Absolution, more specifically, the red cape which bore the golden figure of a guardian Angel.

As the reaper stepped in and prepared to strike, the young lord grasped his weapon well, brought it above his head and swung vertically with utmost might.

A gigantic wave of flame jumped off the weapon into a sea of inextinguishable fire, striking the ghostly apparition and swarming it with myriad flames, all eating away at its otherworldly existence.

Ten seconds passed and the reaper was no more; reduced to mere ash. Amidst said ash, waited Soulrend.

 **PART FIVE:**

"Why have you permitted him usage of your tooth, Arkath?"

"Mother... He is worthy."

There was a blank space in time itself. Around it stood the imposing figures of seven mighty dragons.

"But you know as well as we that he represents the doom of all our people! Even yours!" Malassa reminded her younger brother with dire concern painted on her visage.

"This has nothing to do with my people!" But the brother barked back. "He is a worthy warrior!"

"You nearly died because of it..." Shalassa ever so silently whispered and managed to remind everyone there present of the truth of that which she spoke. "Not to mention the indirect aid to our own destruction..."

After ten seconds of silent thinking, Arkath turned back to his mother.

"You know full well he does not have the Skull with him right now. So the question that needs asked is why didn't you send the reaper to Stonehelm instead?"

"Arkath! Do not question mother's decision!" Elrath finally spoke up with an elderly brother tone that indicated that Arkath should have been asking for forgiveness at his transgression.

But the fiery dragoon disagreed: "You want some too?"

"Why you disre-"

"Children... It serves no purpose to argue as such. Do not endeavor more bloodshed between your people." Asha's words caused Elrath to sigh.

"Mother." Sylanna raised her head to speak. "He has a point. Why did you focus on killing the Demon Messiah instead of recuperating his one and only means of destroying the prison of Sheog?"

"... I made a choice... I chose to hope things do not turn out the wrong way."

"So you are afraid." Sylath finally spoke. "Truly it must be frightening to see a being that does not follow a set path you chose for it and is messing through your strings."

"Sylath... What do you make of this?" Asha addressed the dragon that was most silent the entire conversation. "He is after all, half human."

"Mother. I say we wait and see. Humans and humanity have proven to me on more than one occasion, that those without fate, can still serve a greater purpose to the benefit of many. All those around them are affected in more ways than one, always truly becoming something more than they initially were. Take this example and apply it to the entirety of Ashan."

"Those which you speak of also weren't half demons." Malassa beckoned. "He is a spawn of Urgash and will in all likelihood only better things for their kind, not ours."

"Only time may tell." Sylath looked to his mother, whom brought her head low as if troubled.

"It would appear we truly have no choice but to wait." Elrath concurred.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN:**

 **PART ONE:**

The Wanizame, an amalgamation of human and shark, created by the wizards of the seven cities to battle the hordes of Sheog hundreds of years ago. Mutants akin to orcs and minotaurs.

Their height reached two meters, their bodies wide and full of muscles, but with small amounts of fat as well. On their back could be found large fins which elongated into a tail for swimming. All their fingers were connected through the use of membrane.

It was one such being that pounded away at steel and ever onwards strengthened the metal for its next battle. The shark man cocked his head around after having heard watery footsteps right outside his smithy. He was fully unprepared for the guest he was soon to entertain.

"R-Reilight?! How long has it been?" The shark got up. He wore a simple waist belt that kept a big piece of animal pelt made of brown fur dangling around his unmentionables.

"Too long old friend." The two shook hands like strong men.

"Ei-What brings you here? Is it the festivities?"

"No."

In the capitol of Nariya, amidst the islands of Hashima, the naga celebrated the 'Coming of the Eternal Empress', when, by name, the Eternal Empress, first ever leader of the naga, whom no one had ever managed to best, be it in either warfare, dancing, chores or even chess, would emerge from her palace beneath the ocean and would perform a dance of serenity in the name of Shalassa.

That specific day was very important. A lot of people gathered from all across the globe to see her highness for what could have been the first time in forever to them.

"Were you even aware that today is of such great importance in the naga culture?"

"Erm... No."

"Well it is. Its the 'Coming of the Eternal Empress'. You've arrived on the third day, the last of this festivities cycle. Today's when the ruler of our people shows herself." The Wanizami said all groggy-like.

Reilight scratched his head. Having seen that, Davion asked: "Well what're you 'ere for?"

"Due to some unforeseen consequences involving two or three hordes of demons..." The human took out his weap- err... Parts, of his weapon, that were bundled together and showed it to the smithy.

"YOU BROKE IT?!"

"Don't shout damn you. The shark guards at the entrance of the capitol nearly cut my head off for even bringing these with me."

"Give it 'ere!" The smithy hurriedly snatched it out of Reilight's hands, untied the ropes that kept it together and permitted the parts to fall onto his forge.

The shark looked at the blade as if it were a failed child. The Wanizame equipped his heat gloves and placed the sword fragments in position over his molten forge and anvil. He also made sure for them to be connected in the right spots.

"Davion." That was the Wanizame's name. "Care to provide me with a place to rest? I've kind of been on the road for a bit too much and you starting to work on my sword this very moment isn't helping!" Reilight nearly shouted out that last part there.

Davion turned around. "Guess your right. Come on, I'll show you to Freyda."

Several moments of walking on water leaves later, that for some reason stayed perfectly still on top of the liquid's surface even when big fat shark men stepped on them, the two reached a naga house that luckily resided above the ocean floor.

Davion opened the wooden door to the household and shouted: "Honey! Reilight's here!"

This in turn caused a half snake woman to emerge from behind a wall within the dwelling.

Her top half looked almost entirely like a human woman. The difference was that her ears were long and pointy, fully covered with fish scales. Her hair was long and white. Her face was charismatic and attractive. She wore a green shirt with buttons on a straight line down the middle.

Her lower half was exactly like that of a water snake. From the front, its scales were white. But if one walked behind her, the long tail was green in colour.

Reilight had often wondered if she shed skin every now and then. He also remembered that the first time they met, her scales were completely blue.

The snake woman salute politely: "Hello! Welcome! How have you been? Are you here to join the festivities?"

"Greetings Freyda. And no. I'm not here for the 'Coming of the Eternal Empress', though I suppose I can stay a while."

These three were long time friends: Reilight had saved their lives from demons once when they were traveling through Ashan with goods to sell. The nagas had been in his debt ever since.

"I came a long way from the lands of Irollan."

"Dear Shalassa! All the way from the elven lands?" Freyda had raised a hand to her mouth, surprised, as she had delivered the reply.

"Well. Lets not keep him standing and talking for much longer." Davion intervened as he arrived next to his wife. "He's most likely tired. Lets let him rest."

"But my dear, the festivities end today! In a few hours to be precise!"

"Davion made me aware." Reilight spoke. "I had planned to arrive earlier, but there were difficulties along the way. Can I quickly ask for a meal and a place to rest?"

"Yes, of course. Though I must warn you we only have fish." Freyda mentioned.

Reilight shuddered at the sound of it. He was not exactly a fan of fish. In dire situations, when hungry enough, the man would have eaten fish, but it was by no means a top priority on the 'desire' list.

"Imma head back to the forge nea, fix your damned sword." The shark grunted.

 **PART TWO:**

Davion and Reilight had eaten and rested, had a long talk about what each had been doing the past few years and were now at the stadium where the festivities were to be held. The two were lucky to have found good front row seats.

The stadium was shaped like an arena: a round large open area in the middle and four large platforms which flanked its every side, all of which were armed with too many chairs to count.

The diameter of the arena grounds was twenty meters, but the intriguing fact was that the arena itself was a sort of... 'static water'? The main thing to focus on was the fact that anyone could just step on this static water and would not fall down and drown. The stadium after all had been built on top on the ocean's surface.

Even so, visible gaps existed between the arena and the platforms, three meters wide, permitting nagas to emerge from below if needed. Of course, that did not stop any extra spectators from 'abusing' the gap and spectating from outside the platforms.

Reilight found most of the festivities, the dancing, the singing, to be boring as heck. The only performance he enjoyed were the 'friendly' duels between naga warriors, there to prove their mettle in front of a lot of spectators from all around the globe.

The only inconvenience Reilight had was not being allowed by Davion to participate in the fights. The Wanizame smith was scared as heck that his human friend would break into a blood rage and kill those with whom he would duel. Davion knew full well that Rei wasn't exactly merciful.

Reilight subscribed to one concept very profoundly: Kill or be killed.

After all, such was the kind of world they lived in. War and murder were as casual as eating bread and drinking water on a sunny after noon.

Then the finale to the festivities approached.

During broad daylight, from the middle of the arena erupted a torrent of water. What was so fascinating about it was that which it carried in its wake: a kirin. More precisely a snake dragon of Shalassa.

It was immense! No, immense was a terribly undermined word to describe this kirin. It was literally the size of the capitol. And it had not even emerged fully out of the water into the arena yet!

In fact, much of its body appeared to levitate high up in the air, a thing that sparred those there watching the fate of being crushed by its gargantuan size. One such outcome was indeed undesirable.

The kirin then converged down at the center of the arena with its entire form. The creature melded itself perfectly through an ominous light and became a humanoid.

It was naga of course. But it had transformed into a sort of... Hybrid... Between a kirin and a human.

"Ye see that? That's the Eternal Empress." Reilight sat gawking at her, much like everybody else there whom never before seen her. Davion was an exception to this. The fact that he lived in the capitol of Hashima allowed the smithy to come every year to the festivities and thus, all of that was no surprise to him.

The Eternal Empress looked stunning, even as an abomination of a half human half kirin thing. Her hair was long and blue. It reached until her waists and radiated a unique light reminiscent of the ocean itself.

Her face was immaculate, a beauty which only Angels possessed. Long pointy ears similar to that of elves, but oriented towards the back instead of the sides and covered by scales.

Her eyes were like sapphires, two gems of untold perfection. The neck was covered with scales. The rest of her being was seemingly covered with an impressive blue dress.

There was no sane man who did not desire one such beauty all for themselves.

She was beautiful, there was absolutely no denying that. But it was also utterly and completely incomprehensible why her choice of clothing was so plain.

Blue? Seriously? Just blue?

As Davion told him, Reilight heard that she was, amongst her people, the absolutely undefeated champion of just about everything.

She could do anything and everything and she could do them much better than everyone else. She could do warfare, household chores, she could dance, sing, duel, write, play chess... Anything really. And nobody who ever challenged her could surpass her in any of the aforementioned things. For some reason.

"My fellow brethren. Spectators!" She simply began and already managed to captivate the attention of everybody there present with her serene and breathtaking voice. Even her speaking was beautiful!

The only thing that was missing was for her to constantly emanate a scent or spell that immediately turned the mind of every man into wholeheartedly devoted slaves, if she hadn't already done such a thing.

In that moment, the Empress would have looked like a most divine being, almost like a goddess, if she took on the role of a mother and cradled a baby at her chest.

"You have come here to witness me perform the nine hundred eighty ninth festival of the dragon goddess Shalassa. I thank thee deeply." She had bended her legs slightly and bowed her upper half properly so as to show her thanks and respect.

She had done so four times, each bow directed at separate platforms and sides of the arena like it were orientations of a map. After her polite thanks giving, four water elementals in the shape of women, namely spring spirits, rose form the ocean surface. The square they formed left the Eternal Empress as its center point.

For the next half hour or so, they had danced and singed for the audience.

It was boring to Reilight. He saw no entertainment in such activities. Or more like, he was incapable of comprehending them.

After said half hour went by, there came the time for those who wished to test their might against the Eternal Empress in the form of a duel. Of course, nobody was going to even be able to even land a single blow on her and as such, their success was more often measured in the degree of the failure.

When the announcement of the duels happened, the volunteers could be numbered up to five. There would have been six if Davion hadn't stopped Rei.

"Do not even thing about it!" Having been kept down made Reilight grumpy. "Even if you can beat whole armies by yourself, you cannot defeat the Eternal Empress! You have to understand that."

And that was when the unexpected happened: the Empress pointed at the crowd. More specifically towards Reilight.

"You. The human near the Wanizami. You shall duel me first." This took the smithy completely by surprise and it left him dumbfounded long enough for Reilight to jump from the platform all the way towards the arena before Davion could stop him.

"That frikkin fool!" The Wanizami murmured to himself.

"Do not worry." The shark was addressed by another spectator close by. To his left waited an elegantly dressed middle aged man and to that man's own left, was a female undead. A lich to be precise. "It will be over relatively quick. That is... For the Empress."

Having spared not one second more to gaze at them, Davion returned head to the arena. The spring spirits had already submerged back beneath the ocean.

 **PART THREE:**

The Eternal Empress and Reilight locked gazes. They were to fight at a moments notice.

Rei wore black leather armor that covered his chest and legs. His arms were devoid of protection and a black cape adorned the warrior's back.

From beneath the ocean's surface rose a magnificent jade weapon: a three meter long halberd with blades at both ends. This was the Empress's weapon.

"Are you going to fight me bare fisted?"

Reilight extended his own right hand, which caused his recently repaired sword to burst out of its sheath and onto the arena.

When the blade was caught, its wielder immediately slashed vertically so as to unwind his muscles.

This action caused the right side of the stadium to quake due to sudden water disruptions at high velocity, a thing that made the spectators in that side panic.

The Empress looked at the event which managed to shake two platforms of viewers, but was unimpressed. Clearly she had seen such turbulence before.

Without even having uttered a single word, but with a sick grin on his face, Reilight charged and closed the gap between the two instantly. The action immediately impressed and stunned all the spectators, a thing which also lead to the banishment of any thoughts and doubt at the prospect that that unknown boy was going to get himself murdered.

Rei's blow landed vertically with a thud, but his hit was blocked. The Empress, after all, just played.

However, the attack shifted the water's surface and made it briefly resemble a crater.

She then diverted the force of his attack to slide past her while she directed one of her halberd blades towards his face.

Reilight had utterly seen her attempt coming and shifted himself so his weapon kept staying in attacking position of the halberd and with his left hand, he reached out swiftly to grab the Empress by her neck.

What she understood as an attempt to be grabbed by the neck turned out to be misleading as she was in fact grabbed by the dress close to the neck. Reilight had planned against her plan of 'dodging the grab' by aiming it where she would not expect it to land: her dress.

He immediately pulled her down to the arena's floor, pinning her with his sword.

The Empress melted into water and escaped his clutch below the ocean surface. Reilight looked in disappointment.

She then manifested herself several feet away; her adversary rose up and turned to meet her.

"Do you always cheat? Is that why no one has beaten you yet?" He taunted her.

"Do you always turn to such rough tactics in order ensure victory?"

"Kill or be killed. Simple as that." Survival of the fittest really. There was nothing wrong with gibing a person during a fight to ensure one or two extra blows land if it meant your victory.

"Do you wish to earn my hatred?" She'd asked curiously.

Reilight had adopted a fighting stance and broke into a high speed charge, basically just dashing on the watery surface like a cannon ball that was just shot out of a cannon.

He had thrusted his weapon forward, intending on impaling the Empress, but missing as she had instead slided past his attack and to his right side. He immediately dodged her swinging halberd by leaning back, then returning with a punch that also missed her.

'Upping the speed level are we?' He thought to himself as she completely disappeared from sight.

Reilight jumped back as something crash landed on his position, causing a large amount of water to burst up and reveal full well that the Eternal Empress intended to kill him. This was clearly no longer a friendly duel as she was vexed by his very presence.

Reilight merely scoffed at the idea. He was met with a barrage of blows so fast and brutal, you'd think the Empress went mad. The area covered by the halberd was enough to deposit an entire pit lord if he stood boxed in.

Still, none of that hit Rei for he had dodged so damn flawlessly. The crowd however, were reduced to statues. Most of them anyway.

While holding his sword in his left hand, Reilight sent his right, in the form of a punch, into what he deemed it to be a 'gap' in her offense.

In half a second, he eliminated her entire barrage by making her focus on his hand instead. She could not do anything about it since, at the same time, she had to dodge his sword by jumping up high.

This was another rough tactic: divert the enemy's attention somewhere then use an attack from a different angle. Most opponents would get killed by that.

So as to not jump back, the static water beneath Reilight's feet sunk half a meter and froze, pinning the warrior in place. The Eternal Empress then plunged his position with her weapon, meeting his blade in what could be described as a conquest of strength and durability.

Reilight shook her off him by pushing harder, blowing her across the arena parameters.

Bursting his feet out of their frozen locks, the human warrior said: "See. You do cheat."

Almost as if it were a response, the Empress took hold of her halberd's middle, then pulled and caused it to split into two smaller war staffs. These could not be described as swords, since the hilt far out lengthed the blade and they were not axes because the cutting parts resembled swords more than they did axes.

Next, a circle appeared behind the Empress. What was so intriguing about it was that it levitated behind her back, the material used in its construction seemed to be jade. It was in the form of a circle with three fins on the right and left if its center, pointing outwards.

Proof of dedication to Shalassa.

Then... Silence.

Stillness...

Unobscured awe and confusion.

All present there were stunned. Most of them anyway. If her beauty was gorgeous before, now it was on a whole 'nother level. The circle of jade and her weapons gave the Eternal Empress an air of superiority to the rest of the plebeians there.

In an instant, the entire arena exploded in a violent torrent of liquid, splashing and destroying the static field which permitted humans to step on water.

When the turbulence calmed down, they were gone...

... But... Something... A noise!

It repeated multiple times and some of the spectators recognized it as the sound of blade clashing against blade. But where was it coming from?

There was nothing in sight!

Davion, like everyone else, was baffled. Where had they gone?

"What, has your sight dimmed?" The man next to the smithy spoke. "They're all over the place! You'd see them everywhere you look!"

It was proven so when the water turbulence started once again, finally revealing to the entire audience the most unbelieveble thing ever: they were moving too fast to be tracked by mortal eyes.

Every here and there, the water would splash and create waves.

There were spectators who simply could not believe what they were seeing. Or ehm... What they weren't seeing.

Yet it all became as clear as day that Reilight and the Eternal Empress were dueling at speeds unheard of. Davion put his hands on his head when the thought of 'having to repair the sword once more' struck him, if it somehow managed to break under the pressure.

They finally finished it, the two accelerators landing back on the arena grounds and within vision of the viewers. Truly, they would have quite the story to tell when each of them would get back home.

When dueling with the Empress was announced, there were five volunteers.

Now, there remained zero. The poor sods realized just how high up on the ladder these... things... were. Could they have even been considered living beings anymore?

Stopping in the middle of the arena, Reilight stood on the non static water like he had been on land all along. The field projection was destroyed, meaning that he should have begun drowning that instant.

But he did not.

Leaving this aspect aside, the Empress was more concerned with another thing.

She spoke: "There is something unnatural with you. You take too much joy from fighting. Aren't you afraid of dying?"

"What are you talking about? Didn't I tell you already? Kill or be killed! Revel in death and suffering, ISN'T THAT THE PRICE THAT WE WARRIORS PAY?!"

That was the truth.

Warriors were those individuals who forsook everything even remotely related to peace and became war bounded. To these beings, only death and suffering remained. It was their soul purpose and objective.

They had lost the right to live the moment they came in contact with any sort of weapon whatsoever. Warriors were born of selfish desires.

Her head lowered itself but the Empress had not taken her eyes off of him. "You're mad..." It was said almost like a whisper, but Reilight had heard it and grinned more.

The warrior assumed a fighting stance. He drew his weapon close to his face and pointed it straight at his adversary.

The Empress did a similar thing. In addition, she also magically lifted the water around her and froze I into five icicles, all of which directed at her opponent.

In an instant, they all bursted into motion and aimed to impale Reilight. The distance between the two was crossed almost instantly. The man used his weapon to slash all the projectiles apart in one single swing.

Next, as he knew was going to happen, the Empress appeared close to the water's surface and slashed upwards at her adversary. Reilight moved his head out of the way but maintained his footing.

The two's attacks now became untraceable to the audience, as they attempted with every ounce of strength and speed to take each others life.

One doing it because she had to.

And one doing it because it was fun.

During their clash, Reilight took a step back, the Empress's offense finally managed to somewhat brake his stance, as Rei found himself with his sword behind his back, but still in his hands.

She saw this as a chance to kill him. She couldn't have been more wrong.

From a low position, Reilight swung his blade in an upwards vertical slash all the way till up high, but missed. His adversary stepped back just enough to not get hit, but to still be in range to immediately get back in and hit him.

That was her downfall.

As she went in, she failed to notice when Reilight's sword turned back down upon her...

Blood engulfed everything.

Well not literally... But she had lost an arm as his sword fell upon her left shoulder.

The Empress screamed and fell to her knees. Her arm fell into the water and stained it with a powerful crimson.

All of the spectators were in shock the moment they'd heard her shriek. Almost nobody there expected the outcome that came and yet it happened.

After having savored the moment, Reilight slowly raised his blade… By doing so, he revealed full well that he intended to kill her. Be she the most beautiful woman in the universe, a man had to stand by his motives: never, ever, pick up a weapon without first being prepared to die while using it.

That was what separated the villager from the soldier: the uncommon willingness to kill and sacrifice one's own self.

Reilight's action shocked the audience even more. How could he even dream of doing such a barbaric act to one as refined as the Eternal Empress?! The audacity!

And yet nobody reacted fast enough to stop Reilight.

Only... The water of the ocean itself... Intervened...

 **PART FOUR:**

"Where have you brought us?"

"To my domain." It was as she said.

The Eternal Empress's home was an immense palace located on the ocean floor beneath the islands of Hashima.

The place was, to say the least, impressive. The architecture was of marble, jade and some sort of blue wood stripes on the walls.

The room Reilight and the Eternal Empress were in was a sort of walk way. They were in a wide corridor that only had one straight path in the middle built of stone. To the sides were depths of water, directly linked to the ocean itself, the pathway that the Empress used to drag him there.

The walkway the two were on right now directly lead to two big doors made of more of the blue wood, with jade symbols of kirins and possibly nagas as ornaments.

"Why have you brought me here?" Reilight asked as he eyed her reattached left arm.

"Come." That was all the Empress said before she turned around and walked towards a pair of giant doors.

She did not worry of being attacked, for both hers and his weapon had been stored away.

Reilight followed her.

When the two doors opened, the Empress spoke again: "These, are my chambers."

Directly in front of the entrance waited a two meter tall waterfall, built into the structure to pour liquid into a small fountain at its base. The water then split through two canals left and right, both passed in front of two stair cases that lead to higher ground and proceeded into an vast network of water.

There was an actual legend among the naga people, that if one drank from that fountain, one would gain immense power or even immortality. But Rei knew it was just simple salt water.

The Empress ascended on one of the stair cases, the one to the left. Reilight hadn't.

"Why. Am. I. Here?" This time he spoke with a more serious tone.

She stopped and looked at him, with as impassive a face as ever. "I have brought you here to ask for your help."

"Help?" It was somewhat silly and infuriating that one such as her asked him for help.

"Yes. Do you know in what year we stand?"

Reilight waited for two seconds before replying: "Nine hundred eighty nine.", not because he hadn't known and struggled to remember, but because it sounded as if she wanted to make a fool out of him.

"Yes." She said nonchalantly. "Soon, the end will come." She now started to look worried at the thought.

The Empress was without a doubt referring at the Dark Messiah and the hell he was going to unleash upon all of Ashan.

"Just eleven short years... T- Why are you smiling?" He was actually grinning.

"Because of your naivety. You worry about the end? You're more secure than you think."

If he had been referring to her palace beneath the ocean and how it was going to prove so successful a barrier against demon kind, she would have had to tell him that she simply was not selfish enough to just let the people of Ashan be killed without her lifting a finger.

"If you are talking about-"

"No." He cut her short. "You mistake my point. We've survived year zero. One thousand will be no different. Then will come one thousand and one. And two. And three..."

"Do you know something I don't?"

"A lot, in fact." She did not comment at the apparent 'I am smarter than you' declaration.

She merely whispered: "Be my ally."

"You would have to buy my allegiance." The Empress continued up the stairs to the elevated ground of her chambers.

Reilight climbed up and positioned himself right adjacent to her. A clear measurement was finally permitted between the two.

The human had a tall one point nine meters. The Empress's height, in her somewhat human form, only reached until Rei's nose.

The second level of her chambers was marvelous as well. Built with myriad marble and jade, it was composed of a large beautiful blue mattress bed, a round table towards the bed's left and a weapons rack to its right.

Firstly, those were some damn fine weapons in terms of both quality and value.

Secondly, her chamber was almost merged with the nature of water itself because it had several small aqueducts of the ocean decorating her room's floor and walls. The ceiling had been adorned with a beautiful jade chandelier.

The Empress extended her left hand and pointed it at the weapons rack. "You have proven yourself in my eyes. Take one of these weapons as a token of your achievements and our allegiance. Or would you prefer gold?"

"I would have no place to spend said gold and I already have a more than sufficing sword."

Once a warrior grew sufficiently attached to his blade, it proved to be quite hard to take it away from him, even when presented with another weapon ten times better than what he was originally using.

The Empress lowered her hand and turned to look at him.

"Then... What do you want?" She had asked baffled. She failed to see his true nature.

Reilight approached even more, raised his right hand and gently took hold of her chin with just two fingers.

"... You." Stared her dead in the eyes...

 **PART FIVE:**

"How do you plan to go about your revenge?" The man had asked.

The lich turned to face him. She and her master had been walking leisurely through the corridors of Nar Heresh, until her tutor started the conversation.

"A direct frontal assault." She'd said plainly. "I intend to face him in single combat." She had then resumed their walk.

"Good, I see you are controlling your emotions fluidly." It was to be noted that undead do not 'feel' things. A necromancer would still retain his feelings after becoming a servant of Asha, but in the current situation, this lich had by no means been created through the same methods as all the others.

Her emotions remained.

And she felt a truckload of rage when she'd fully understood the nature of the one whom she wished vengeance against, the one who betrayed her.

Arriving within their chamber, the man telepathically reached out to a giant book, sitting at the table as the tome slowly levitated to him. The lich took a seat on a chair on the opposite side of the room.

After having opened the old and dusty ten kilograms book, he blowed some air out of his lungs which caused the tome to completely renew. It now looked as if it had not spent some good five hundred years in an immense library.

"Are you prepared to enact said vengeance?"

With utter calmness, she replied: "I am."

"My final lesson to you... Shall now begin."


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT:**

 **PART ONE:**

Menethil walked calmly towards the front line. Dressed in his Armor of Absolution, he gripped Dragontooth in such a way that it allowed the weapon to rest on the young lord's right shoulder without causing any damage. Not that the prince's vestments allowed any to injuries to fell him in the first place...

He had peered forward, no fear or doubt in the man's eyes.

The Dark Messiah could not afford to fail that day, for it would have mean the end of both him and his beloved.

Behind Menethil waited Stonehelm.

To his sides were legionnaires, soldiers sent by the Wolf duchy to defend that free city.

And forward... Forward waited the green plains upon which battle was soon to be held...

Two weeks ago, news that an undead army marched upon Stonehelm reached Sareth. The enemy themselves had dispatched a skeleton to warn the free city of the incoming invaders.

The reason as to why they would do such a thing, speculated Visingthor, was so Stonehelm would put up a good fight upon their arrival. As per Aaron's instruction, Menethil permitted the old governor to travel to the Wolf duchy close by and ask for reinforcements.

The old man had returned with the promised troops, an army of one hundred and sixty legionnaires and one hundred and twenty marksmen. These were the troops allotted to the protection of Stonehelm.

But, that would not be all.

Aaron had more than fulfilled his promise by bringing the materials and instructions required for additional fortification.

First and foremost, with sorcery, the landscape before Stonehelm had been altered so that the legionnaires provided would be able to confront the enemy from outside the gates, without having to fight at a choke point.

Secondly, Visingthor had brought engineers and blacksmiths to install extra fortifications atop the walls. The forward defensive line against all external threats was now augmented with ballista's and cannons, truly boosting the defensive capabilities of Stonehelm.

And if that wasn't enough, five large catapults had been installed behind the wall, where enemy line of sight could not reach, on top of several buildings within the city for additional fire support.

The job they did was nothing short of amazing. This was the next level in technology and fortifications that the Empire had developed.

A ton of catapults. A ton of ballista's. A ton of cannons. And a hell of a lot of marksmen.

Aaron Visingthor himself was rather stunned with this level of defense, making a wide variety of strategies now possible.

Speaking of which, the plan of action would be that Menethil and all one hundred and sixty legionnaires would be positioned outside the wall, to meet the enemy head on and be a primary threat.

They would have the undead legion march at them in a blind rage, where they would cut the head of the bull with both sheer stubbornness and the continuous fire support of all the marksmen and fortifications on the wall.

Menethil waited, just like the rest of the men there. They were to be a distraction, they knew that well enough. The governor was the one to come up with such a plan, for, the young lord still lacked much experience in warfare.

Sareth would do only one thing: keep the enemy at bay while Aaron commanded the marksmen and artillery fire on top of the wall. Simple enough.

One could argue that it would have been a more cost efficient strategy to allow the legionnaires to take cover behind the walls. Menethil and Visingthor did not like this plan because it lead to the enemy targeting their walls and fire support first. Once those fell, they would just arrive back to where the whole argument began: stranded behind the walls of stone without any sort of ranged fire.

After all, they had not managed to count the enemy's numbers.

Duncan waited besides Menethil, dressed in a brand new armor set, which the Dark Messiah had used before obtaining his current Armor of Absolution. Just like all the legionnaires there, the captain of the guard wielded a halberd in his right hand and a towering great shield in his left.

Just in case of an emergency, Duncan was to take command of the ground forces in Menethil's stead. As such, The Dark Messiah gave his second in command two bottles, potions which did Sareth much good in his journey to find the Skull, but were now relatively useless to him.

The Skull of Shadows, as well as the magic chest forged in the silver cities were no longer with Menethil. The prince had given them to Xana while he fought in the battle, just as a precaution of being slain and dropping everything out into the field.

All the initial guardsmen of Stonehelm had been amassed at the second line of defense, surrounding Menethil's mansion, where they had also gathered all the villagers and citizen for shelter.

Rena Falcon and Xana were among them. They would lead there should the first line of defense be obliterated, as unlikely as that was.

An unknown horn sounded, alerting everybody.

Or rather, a chorus of horns had sounded, which announced the arrival of an army.

From atop the hill, many undead skeletons came in sight. Metallic clanking and other sorts of noises were heard by the living with each step the corpse army took.

Every single legionnaire had braced and pulled their shield in front of themselves, halberds at the ready to meet the unrelenting foe. This was mere standard procedure for your everyday soldier of the Empire.

"Men! Now is the hour of your calling!" The Dark Messiah had shouted to address the ground forces. "You may pray to the dragon gods to see it through this battle, but do not forget! Your actions and your actions alone in the moments to come are what will determine if any of us will make it through today. Follow my commands and I promise you, most of us will see the light of tomorrow!"

That was... If the enemy's plan didn't out plan their plan. Mind fucking wasn't it?

 **PART TWO:**

The army of rotten, fetid corpses advanced steadily. At the front were many armored skeletons bearing swords, spears, axes and shields. Only five visible rows of perfectly aligned troops threatened Stonehelm as they came to a halt.

Where the undead amassed through a choke point atop the hill, the imperial legionnaires were formed into four major regiments, each forty legionnaires strong, perfectly positioned so as to cover the entire forward wall. Every regiment was under the command of a captain and every ten legionnaires were formed into squads lead by a sergeant.

Overall, Menethil was in charge of them. His second in command was Duncan. It was a pretty solid command structure, no?

That day, even if control and order of troops among the legionnaires was lost, Aaron did not plan to open the gates and let the soldiers in should they face the threat of extinction. The possibility of the undead slipping inside their city was unacceptable.

The gate was already completely sealed and blocked on the inside with chunks of rocks. The old man just had to once more wish the boy good luck. He was after all bearing the forefront of the attack, and was in all likelihood a major target in the assailants list.

The undead cleared a path as a morbid figure approached on a horse. Without a doubt, the one in control of that army.

However simple daylight did not permit identification at such distance. The dilemma of necromancer on 'might' or 'magic' could not be cleared at the time.

If the enemy leader took to the front and attacked with a sword, it would definitely have been a might oriented figure. But if the necromancer casted spells from afar, the opposite would have also been obvious.

Menethil stood a second thinking: Was the enemy leader willing to take a minute and approach at the middle of the soon to be battle ground for a friendly talk? Perhaps the young lord could of the reason for the undead attack.

But Aaron did not grant him the time to do such a thing. With a flag, he signaled the catapults to throw their first boulders, which resulted in five massive chunks of stone that lumbered through the air towards the undead force.

The catapults were placed so as to bombard a single position throughout the entire conflict, and that location was the top of the hill. The soldiers operating them were ordered not to switch the coordinates at all. Wizards assisted them by telekinetically loading chunks of rock onto the catapults, and the guardsmen operated them to fire whenever the flag signaled.

Neither of them ever hit the undead.

All the boulders stopped mid air, as if frozen in time.

This act surprised the young lord and every one else there still drawing breath within their lungs. Menethil focused, allowing his vision to become as keen as that of an eagle or a hawk, launching itself across the battle field to witness the necromancer holding up a staff.

The reason he hadn't done it sooner was because the Dark Messiah didn't even know he could do such a thing until a moment ago. The enemy leader's clothing was now visible: black robes of Nar Heresh. A might oriented necromancer would have worn solid armor.

He was able to tell them apart mostly due to the fact that it was drilled into this brain during tutoring sessions in Stonehelm. That, and the fact that common sense dictated how things should go.

Under everybody's gaze, the five boulders began vibrating violently, slowly ripping themselves apart into a multitude of non countable pieces until there were no big rocks left. Then, each of the myriad shards shaped themselves like bolts or arrows, pointing towards the legionnaires.

Clearly, there was no room for friendly talk with the attacker.

With a single finger move, the projectiles launched themselves like lightning bolts towards the human defends, prompting the soldiers to hide behind their shields. But Menethil sensed that the shards of earth would penetrate and murder everyone but himself.

Having to react fast, the young lord extended his left hand forward and channeled his mana into actual lightning, directing it off of his fingertips so as to hit every single projectile and turning them to dust.

He had not gotten all of them however: one single shard pierced through the defenses of a legionnaire's thick shield and killed him, causing the poor sod to fall backwards in a mess of blood and gore.

This sight in itself made all the Imperial soldiers in that regiment fear the necromancer who'd outplayed them so brilliantly.

Aaron was flabbergasted at the enemy's feat. He'd turned their own weapons against them... Since that was the case, the old man might as well have just ordered all of the marksmen to abandon the wall, grab daggers and charge at the opponent.

But he did not do that.

Once Aaron returned to his old self, he mustered his strength and awaited for the enemy's move.

Back then, Menethil had used his left hand to bounce electricity off of his finger tips.

The necromancer also used its fingers to turn the boulders into myriad small shards and launch them all as extremely deadly projectiles.

Unintentionally, the two metaphorically 'united' fingers via the use of magic.

The undead soldiers began marching forward at a slow pace, alerting the legionnaires and causing them to once more assume their original formations, shields forward and halberds pointed.

Some of these soldiers were veterans, namely captains, and they recognized that the skeletons which approached them were most likely human before they died and rotted away. One of them openly spoke to Menethil:

"Milord! If you can cast magic, the spell called 'banish undead' is most efficient at wiping them out." A caster would know his spells to the point of not needing anyone to tell them about it.

"Unfortunately, I cant cast that spell." Perhaps due to his heritage, the Demon Messiah was unable to use certain spells. He did spend large amounts of time studying Menelag's books of magic.

Even if he learned the spells, he just could not cast a single damn sorcery other than the ones he taught himself during the journey to find the Skull.

The young lord grabbed Dragontooth with both hands and stepped forward. Flame began engulfing the angry blade and Menethil brought it behind himself in a horizontal position, intending to turn the advancing force of undead into ashes.

He swung with all his might, fire jumping off his sword and into a wave of flame akin to a tsunami of water, creating a wall of doom for the walking corpses of Nar Heresh.

Even though it approached, not one skeleton was fazed by its coming. They were all lifeless, emotionless, static.

Smiling at first, the Dark Messiah found himself stunned to see that his wall of flame turned into mist and evaporated into the blue sky of Ashan. The same could be said about every other living soul there that day.

 **PART THREE:**

They were all woken up when the clanking of the undead drew nearer and nearer.

There were twenty meters in-between the living and the walking dead. The young lord gripped Dragontooth tightly, bringing it up besides himself and prepared for the first wave to hit.

Seventeen meters.

Fourteen.

Eleven.

Eight.

Five.

That was when the exchange of blows happened. However the conflict was minor and drew no blood as units were merely bashing weapons against one another. The legionnaires wielded halberds and the undead had spears, after all. But then again, skeletons didn't bleed.

One meter.

Now the units were bashing against each other at full force, the legionnaires numbering one hundred and sixty and the undead skeletons possibly reaching two hundred. The five lines of walking bones seemed to point to that number.

But it was not to fret for the Dark Messiah himself fought in the battle, hacking away five enemies at once with a single cleave. Menethil allowed flame to once more swathe through his sword and slashed vertically into the midst of the undead foes: a ten meter long wave of flame exploded from the blade onto the battle field, claiming over two dozen foes and reducing them to mere ash.

Inspired by this, the soldiers around him cheered and shouted battle cries, being vigorously energized and encouraged to hold their ground.

"Open fire!" Old man Visingthor had ordered the ballista's and cannons to launch their projectiles upon the further back lines of skeletons, marksmen letting lose crossbow bolts in a systematic slaughter.

And for once, the enemy necromancer had not attempted to stop said attacks. Maybe it was deciding when it was best to act and how, weighing its options so to speak.

A good five minutes of spear and sword bashing against the hard great shields of the legionnaires had left the undead soldiers broken and nearly decimated, be it either by the raining doom of Stonehelm's walls or by the ground forces that met them on the field.

Witnessing the loss of those troops, the necromancer cared little. It hardly showed any emotion for its visage was well covered under rags of black cloth.

One very good thing for the defenders was that the terrain was geoformed with magic so as to form a hill, meaning that any enemy that rushed at them would trip and fall if it wasn't careful, a fatal mistake the necromancer had not yet done.

What the sorcerer had done however, was use its power to sprawl out of the ground near it two massive boulders. It then merely placed the rocks on the ground and allowed gravity to pull them towards Stonehelm.

It was a really big and true blow to everybody's own pride the enemy used the terrain they geoformed against them: the rocks were gaining speed as they were rolling down the hill, ever quicker threatening the lives of the legionnaires on the sides of the battle field.

The biggest risk was if the boulders smashed into the front wall of Stonehelm and created a gap large enough to permit the undead to enter the city.

Menethil wasn't going to let it happen.

He wasn't going to allow the possible breakthrough of the walls and most certainly not the squashing of his soldiers.

Thinking fast, the Dark Messiah channeled mana into his leg and stomped toward the rock approaching on the right side, causing a wall of earth to rise up directly beneath the boulder and knock it back uphill. That chunk of earth landed higher up and created a small crater that was big enough to stop the rock from further rolling down.

The prince then turned his gaze towards the one on the left side, approaching rapidly. The young lord summoned an 'Eldritch bolt' into his free hand and tossed it like a spear at the approaching rock. It violently shattered into pieces as response.

'Eldritch bolt' was one of the easiest spells one could learn and at the same time, it was one of the deadliest sorceries in the hands of the most capable of wizard and witches. The reason for that was because Eldritch bolts entirely damaged according to one's own magical prowess.

For instance, earth spells like the conjuration of massive boulders and tossing them at the enemy would deal the full physical damage of their earthly mass, and would not at all grow in destructiveness according to the wielders power.

An Eldritch bolt on the other hand, when used by a lowly peasant, did little more than create a spectacular flash of lights. But when someone like the arch mage of the silver cities used it, the bolt turned anyone and everyone into red paste.

The reason this Eldritch bolt shattered rock was because the Demon Messiah himself casted the spell. And as was already proven, he had enough magical potential to make even the most dedicated of sorcerers look like buffoons and clowns.

The troops cheered once more, calling out Menethil's name in joy at the sight of the removal of their imminent demise.

But their joy was a momentary thing.

Their presence was made known through the constant moaning of pain that walking represented: from behind the great hill came hideousy made manifest.

Aberrations.

Not one. Not two. But dozens of them!

They were all towering figures of decomposing flesh and bone forced to fit together through the black magic that necromancy represented. The legionnaires stared dumbfounded at how the approaching doom encroached them, silently whispering their death.

"F-Fire on them! Ballista's! Cannons! Catapults! Marksmen!" Aaron ordered and the inventions of wood and steel complied.

A steady stream of fire and iron began raining down on the aberrations, some of which resulting in the slowing of said flesh golems and others outright blowing them apart with the heavy fire support.

Then five massive lumps of rock were hurled across the killing fields once more. This time, the necromancer responded by discarging lightning at all five at once, reducing the boulders to mere pebbles that fell harmlessly on the approaching monstrosities.

"Damn it!" Menethil cursed. Not one single catapult hit any undead forces thanks to the blasted necromancer.

He had to put the bastard out. Doing so would ensure that any further forces the corpse still had behind the hill might actually fall out of its control and perish.

As he discovered five months back when he killed Arantir, the aberration in Stonehelm did not drop dead along with the necromancer. The young lord's forces would still have to deal with the walking giants.

But could there have been more than one necromancer controlling these lumps of flesh?

Menethil thrusted Dragontooth into the ground and closed his eyes. He ignored the cries of his second in command or any captain there and focused. The prince's mind ascended up above the battle field, allowing him a downward view of the killing grounds.

There stood the necromancer. Behind the hill were... no more undead? What!

He rejoiced at the though really, but got back to his initial job really quickly: finding out if there was another necromancer.

The way he would discover their presence was by detecting the mana pool within them. As it turned out, there were no more.

Victory was just a few short steps away.

Returning back to his physical body, the Dark Messiah had noticed that the aberrations had gotten considerably closer. More specifically they were bashing at legionnaires three meters in front of him.

"Duncan! Potion!" He'd told his second in command, who responded by resting his halberd on his shoulder and untied a gray potion from his waist, then drinking it.

Duncan's skin and armor turned to stone, empowering his defenses massively.

Menethil jumped at an aberration, sinking his sword right into the thing's torso, resulting it its fall and the attention of two more stinking flesh golems nearby. Bringing his sword out of the beast, the young lord had the pleasure of seeing his second in command rush to his side and block a hit from one of the lumps of flesh.

The creature moaned furiously to see the outcome, as all other aberrations there did when their hits were stuck in the weapons or shields of the broken bodies of legionnaires, or when they were taken down by the sustained fire of Aaron's forces.

"Keep it busy."

"Got it!" Duncan replied with visible amounts of joy at the prospect of doing battle with such a big thing and surviving due to the potion he drank.

The prince shifted attention to the other one, who now had brought its arm up to strike. Allowing it to fall on the corpse of its kin, Menethil dashed right and slashed horizontally, breaking both ankles of the monstrosity.

After it fell down, it was quickly sent back to the grave when Dragontooth slammed into its distorted visage.

The battle was manageable.

Due to old man Visingthor aid, they could win it.

They would have, but the necromancer just had to say something about it: the reanimation of all the slain skeletons and aberrations ruined everybody's day.

Immediately alerted at the outcome that they will all get slaughtered, Menethil jumped off of the rising corpse and charged towards the enemy leader.

 **PART FOUR:**

No undead was swift enough to stop the young lord in his tracks. They were all evaded by various means: be it by either jumping, dashing or just the plain old 'get out of the way before it hits you' tactic.

Making it past all the inconveniences, Menethil broke into a direct bee line towards the necromancer, whom only stood observing him patiently. It would appear the rotten wizard really wanted to see how far he'd get, as proven when none of its forces turned around to chase the Dark Messiah.

The young lord got within range and swung his enormous blade at the corpse, resulting in it being caught effortlessly in the rotten corpse's empty hand.

"What?!" The half demon exclaimed stunned.

Visible sparks emanated from the point of contact between the two, suggesting that the sorcerer was using some kind of spell to block his blade.

With his feet firmly planted on the ground, Menethil attempted to pull back. He couldn't. What was happening?

Dragontooth wasn't pleased. The blade lit aflame in a fit of anger, but was immediately shut down as water appeared out of thin air and splashed the blade. It was really, really cold water. So cold in fact that the tooth of a dragon had stopped producing flames.

Perhaps it was because fire was weak to water, or something.

But the fact still remained: the Demon Messiah could not pull back from the grasp of the rotten sorcerer. And then something that forever haunted the prince happened: its staff began to levitate as the necromancer moved its other hand and removed the cowels around its visage.

That face! It stunned the young lord to no end.

His hands started shaking under the pressure, he began sweating, swallowing a chunk of saliva that formed in his mouth.

"Leanna..." He'd managed to squeeze out.

The woman was indeed there, dead, as a female lich of great power.

Menethil was immediately picked up with telekinesis and immobilized, being brought up to the point where his feet were half a meter away from touching the ground.

Leanna's mount disappeared as she started levitating.

With the back of her left hand, she swiped at Sareth's face, resulting in the young lord crashing all the way back towards the walls of Stonehelm, behind the line of legionnaires. He had been hit with both force and magic, leaving a deep open wound on the cheek where the blow landed.

"Milord!" Duncan had came to his side, attempting to pick him up.

But the one to pick him up instead was the lich. She telekinetically pulled him back in front of her, still immobilized.

He had started to struggle in the girl's grasp, even went so far as to empower his defenses with magic. But nothing worked. Did this mean that the necromancer had more magical power than even him?

It was utterly absurd!

"Leanna... Is it really you? Or are you being controlled?" He strained to get those words out under the pressure of the grab.

The lich stared at him for uncounted seconds. She appeared to be in deep thought. The wait was agonizing as more and more men died by the second fighting off the undead army.

"That you would dare to even say my name..." Her soothing voice came about. It was serene, like a flower slowly floating on the water's surface.

But it was saddened, clearly hiding emotion beneath her deep emerald eyes.

"You left me there to die."

"I'm-" Menethil began but felt the grip on him tighten, beginning to hurt. "-sorry! But there was nothing I could have done from behind the gates!"

"Don't. Lie. To. Me!" His strains and pain intensified each time she said a word. "You were well aware I had been taken to Nar Heresh alive!" Sareth could no longer fool himself with 'there was nothing I could have done to save her' anymore.

At the time, Sareth honestly thought Arantir killed her. He only discovered that she still drew breath after infiltrating the undead capitol in his attempt to confront the necromancer lord.

"And you refused to rescue me!" It was as she said.

Back then, the young lord could not bring himself to step into the spider den. It was not because of fear but... Well... He was stopped by Xana.

Rivalry always boiled between the succubus and Leanna when the young lord saw her for the first time. Xana had perhaps crossed the line when she diverted his mind from rescuing Leanna back then. She'd clouded his thoughts with serene sounds and her beautiful figure, everything to keep him for herself.

Was the succubus a mischievous and evil existence?

Or had she merely done what she had to in order to secure what was most valuable to her?

If Menethil would ask her, Xana would surely tell him that she'd done what she had to and the prince would recognize she'd be telling the truth.

All that boiled down to one much simpler line of though: Sareth loved Xana more than anything.

"I could sense your presence outside the den! To think you would turn away and leave me there!" Leanna's voice began exerting emotion, showing a mixture of both sorrow and anger.

She could not forgive him and Menethil could not blame her at all for it.

If Leanna would do anything to Xana or Rena, the prince would not be able to forgive her either.

They alienated themselves.

 **PART FIVE:**

"I would say that's quite enough anger, my dear." The earth nearby rose and molded itself until it gained the shape of a human.

This new figure then obtained color, transforming into a middle aged man which wore some gray fashioned robes.

"Greetings Demon Messiah." He said nonchalantly towards Menethil, alerting the young lord at the fact that they knew his true identity. Leanna was still holding him with her power. "I am Sar-Issus. My master was Sar-Elam, the Seventh Dragon."

The prince's eyes widened greatly. This person was an apprentice of the Seventh Dragon?!

"Leanna, control your emotion." The wizard had addressed the lich. Her calming down was displayed in the form of 'not strangling Sareth so hard' anymore. "While I did not deny your revenge, I insist that you do it in an orderly manner." Sar-Issus's head returned to Menethil. "He does not have the Skull of my master with him."

The young lord's mind immediately went to Xana and Rena within Stonehelm. "Do not dare to go after the Skull. I wont allow you!" His struggling intensified.

"Do not worry my boy." Sar-Issus spoke. "You are the only one who can undo my master's work. As such, we need only kill you. Lay down your life here and we wont venture further into Stonehelm. You have our promise."

Menethil couldn't accept the offer. There was no way of making sure they would hold their word after he perished. And neither could he accept dying and leaving his beloved behind.

The prince struggled to turn his head around and behold the massacre at the gates. His legionnaires no longer drew breath, laying down on the grass broken and beaten.

The enemy forces stood unmoved, allowing Aaron Visingthor to keep throwing bolts and cannon balls at the undead. All the corpses, both friendly and hostile, were subjected to the rain of steel.

With the wave of one flag, five more chunks of earth roared through the sky, heading towards Menethil's position.

Sar-Issus stepped forward. Sareth could tell that the wizard intended to stop the boulders, but was curious as to how he would perform such a thing. With a single powerful blink, the chunks of rock exploded from inside out, scattering across the terrain like their predecessors before them.

Returning to the Dark Messiah, Sar-Issus asked: "Something about you intrigues me boy. Why have you not already destroyed the prison of Sheog and freed your father?" Menethil looked away. He wasn't keen on answering the question.

"I'm not going to tell you."

"Oh? Is it a reason you wish to keep hidden from the dragon gods?" The wizard looked up at the sky.

In doing so, a crack in the air appeared, right above their location, shattering like glass and revealing to the three that they were now surrounded in the darkness of the cosmos; of the universe.

"No one will be able to see or hear us while here." He strolled around Leanna. "Now tell us, Demon Messiah, you had infinite power within your grasp, but you did not take it? Why?"

Sareth's mind could only see one thing in that moment: an image of Menethil and Xana, sitting peacefully at a table, a pit fire behind them, the two hugging.

Sar-Issus stopped, almost shocked. "... Love... I see..."

Had he read his mind?

The strain of the grasp on the young lord tightened to the point he was once more feeling pain. The Armor of Absolution seemed unable to protect him from this damage.

"Go ahead then Leanna, kill him." The wizard walked behind the lich, to allow her working space.

With her left hand, the undead woman held the Dark Messiah so he did not move. She brought her other one at head level, pointed at Menethil as if intending to thrust. Her hand was then covered in purple the shape of a blade, which extended itself to encompass her entire arm and elbow, creating a spike of power.

She was going to kill Sareth.

The girl had not the time to thrust as she discovered that she herself had been thrusted into: through her chest emerged the same kind of spell, driven by the hand of Sar-Issus, a thing which amazed Menethil to no end.

With the telekinesis spell was gone, the young lord fell onto the blackened earth and he rushed forward to catch the crumbling body of the lich as the wizard pulled back.

"Leanna!" Holding her in his arms, the prince felt remorse and pity for the poor girl. She embarked on the same journey as Sareth, fell in love with him, was captured and then abandoned by a man who could not chose rightly between two women.

Was Sareth's choice wrong? Should he instead have saved Leanna and forgotten about Xana?

If such a thing were to happen, then the one dying in his arms that moment might have been the succubus, while Leanna would have instead been in the safety of Stonehelm.

The dragon gods had a wicked sense of humor. Or at least one of them did.

As the two stared themselves in the eyes, Menethil could tell when Leanna's no longer bore life within them and her entire figure began dissolving and crumbling into ashes.

The Demon Messiah's hands shook as he cursed his own wretched existence that caused so much pain and suffering unto those around him. Leanna once held a special place in his heart. Seeing her become naught but ash and cinder allowed the prince to be stabbed with a dagger of guilt.

He caused the situation he was in.

No... It was his wretched father whom placed him on that earth to begin with!

"Why? Why?! WHY!" Menethil shouted as loud as he could, once more cursing himself.

"Because." The wizard spoke with an authoritarian voice. "You are the Demon Messiah! The inheritor of evil! The bringer of the end! There is no happy path for you."

The young lord brought his face down low, scratching against the hard floor and even beginning to punch it.

"Allow me to tell you something. There is no person without sin and absolutely everything will end at some point in time. But just because you are who you are does not mean that you cannot better yourself. You are untouched by the strings of fate! There is no one that can set your destiny or give you a good path in life. You have to forge it for yourself, as you have already done so!"

Menethil slightly raised his head off the ground. His mind was rushed with myriad images of the happiness he'd secured himself the past months, moments of peace and harmony with his beloved and those around them.

It was not only possible, but it was also already set in motion.

"This girl, Leanna-" Sar-Issus brought attention back to her and Menethil raised his visage to look at him. "-I have forged her into a powerful mage for the eventuality in which you were truly preparing to unleash the prison of Sheog. But as you have not done so... The girl no longer had purpose, so I stopped her from ending the life of Ashan's savior."

The Dark Messiah had indeed become Ashan's savior...

"It would truly appear that the girl was doomed to a terrible and decrepit path all along. Her destiny was to always be used by those close to her."

The wizard inhaled deeply. The right side of his face started crumbling, turning into bits of ash and dust. Soon followed the rest of him.

"It is time I join my master and my brothers. Fare thee well, Menethil Falcon, the hope of this land."


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE:**

 **PART ONE:**

The young lord found himself back on the hill. Raising his surprised visage, Menethil wiped away a tear and looked towards the walls of Stonehelm.

Right at the gate's knees were corpses piled on top of one another, a clear indicator of the destruction wrought by the undead and on them as well. All of the legionnaires were most likely dead, including Duncan...

The lad will be missed, as he'd proven to be a devout and loyal follower.

Several small footsteps away waited Dragontooth, thrusted into the ground and burning furiously due to its wielders apparent abandonment of it. The sword was without a doubt shouting at the prince to come pick it up. Menethil had done so without the vigor he held before the battle, for it was all drained upon seeing the casualties.

Such was the nature of war: people died. Nobody ever lived forever.

Not Rohegan, not Duncan, not Leanna and certainly not the Dark Messiah.

They were all good people deep inside, even if they had their flaws.

Rohegan was a stout and honorable guardian, always more than willing to put himself at risk in order to defend his people and punish injustice. Menethil respected the war chief greatly for showing him the way.

Duncan was a worthy warrior and upholder of the law, a loyal soldier as much as a follower and friend. He would always be quick to carry out a given task as well as support Menethil when he was most needed. The prince was very grateful to him.

And Leanna... She was an inspiration to those around her. She was cheerful, friendly, beautiful... The young lord missed her and wished he'd spent more time with the girl before she inevitably left.

He missed all of them. Each one of them deserved mourned.

Then again, they knew what they were getting into, unlike Sareth...

Sareth was a foolish young boy who knew nothing of the world he lived in, or of the higher stakes. His one and only goal was to impress ladies.

Menethil was so much more. He had a family. He had protected said family twice now.

Dragontooth sensed the sorrow in his wielders heart and ceased burning so incessantly. The blade tried to cheer him by shifting its form just enough to display the figure of a woman above the hilt, in the shape of a small sculpture.

Menethil remembered: 'Xana...'

Indeed, all the sacrifices were worth it when a loved one was involved.

Once again, affection proved itself as an unstoppable force which conquered all. Drawing a happier breath, the young lord had begun making way to Stonehelm, but failed to notice that which he most certainly should have.

 **PART TWO:**

Aaron looked up. Every marksman watched in absolute horror: all of a sudden, the sun went dim before their very eyes and the sky became red.

Visingthor shouted to his lord to hurry up before the- No time, it seemed.

Like thunder, the pit lord bolted through the air and ripples of matter to stand in between Menethil and Stonehelm.

It was truly surprising, even to the prince himself.

But the Dark Messiah did not waver. He raised Dragontooth up and held it to block the incoming hit from the demon. The massive stone sword came at fairly good speed, but it infuriated the pit lord to not have crushed this opponent in just one single swing.

"Open fire!" Steel began raining on the spawn of Sheog, except it did not mind them at all.

Menethil pushed the blade of stone off of him and led it to crash onto the ground next to his feet. He then reached around the blade and grabbed it, pulling onto the massive object and raising it with both arms.

The stubborn nature of the demon did not allow him to just discard his weapon and thus, ended up being dragged by the prince up into the air. Menethil had spun once and then let go of the sword, causing the pit lord to become air born on a flight path towards the hill.

But knowing that it would not kill the threat, the young lord summoned an Eldritch bolt into his free hand and lobbed it at the demon, scoring a hit right in the chest and electrifying the spawn of Sheog good.

Menethil then crouched for two seconds, gathering strength and leapt... Arriving right above the flying pit lord and slashing downwards with all his might, cutting the demon at waist level and splitting him into two.

The Dark Messiah must have sent the beast flying about one hundred meters. After wards he must have jumped at leas twice that distance...

As the ground creaked with dust upon Menethil's descent, the body parts of his fallen foe landed to the prince's sides, gushed out a good amount of blood in the process and splashed some of it on the killer.

The young lord was rather disgusted by it however. He wasn't psychopathic enough to enjoy being drenched in the blood of his foes. Menethil channeled mana into his off hand and a wave of light crossed his entire body, cleansing his Armor of Absolution from all traces of gore.

Only then did he remember about the hit scored on his cheek by Leanna. A simple healing spell solved that little nuisance as well.

After wards, the Dark Messiah proceeded past the hill, towards Stonehelm, becoming alerted at the fact that it started raining flaming meteors across his entire vision range.

"No!" He watched with horror on how the fiery doom bombarded his city, causing many pillars of smoke to surge skywards.

Menethil's mind immediately recognized the danger of losing his beloved, but he didn't have time to break into a spree as something came flying towards his feet, landing dead.

He once more looked in terror and grief at the one who died: "Old man..."

... Why... Why?!

Raising head allowed the prince to see a big murderous demon on the wall of Stonehelm, killing marksmen and anyone else who happened to be there.

Bending low and placing his free hand on Aaron's forehead, Menethil dragged it across the old man's face and closed his lifeless eyes, but had done so with a pang of guilt in his heart.

"I thank you for your guidance and your help, Aaron Visingthor..." Rarely did he ever call the past inquisitor by his full name.

The young lord's eyes and stance rose up, preparing for battle once more. Menethil still had to rush inside the free city and rescue his dearest. They were higher priority, but that did not mean the prince did not feel a burning desire to avenge his loyal followers.

The Dark Messiah's mana was low, but it was of little concern. Dragontooth luckily did not require any kind of fueling in order to spit out its deadly flames.

Bursting into a sprint, the young lord crossed the entire battle field in narrowly five seconds, arriving at the pile of corpses in front of the gates and using them as stepping stones in order for him to jump up on top of the wall.

The bulwark of Stonehelm was twenty five meters tall after it was reconstructed. The bodies below stacked above each other reached seven meters maximum. The Dark Messiah had not interacted with them in any way other than as just a simple gap closer, leaping off of their highest peak and arriving at his destination, amidst broken bodies and gore.

There were no living souls in sight, not even the demon that caused the slaughter.

Fire and smoke came in full view atop burning houses. Screams accompanied and ornamented the picture of death, and the prince was once more put into the position of thinking: 'What... am I fighting for?'

Except this time, there was no princess in his mind who could answer that thought. But alas, there did not need to be one for Sareth already knew the answer to that long surpassed trial of a question.

 **PART THREE:**

The gate of Stonehelm had been barricaded on the inside with a giant boulder as to further prevent the undead from breaking through.

This measure of defense, while it proved useful against any outside foes, was a large inconvenience when the enemy was inside the gates. That was because the boulder meant 'escaping Stonehelm' had one massive problem denying its completion.

Anyone other than the Dark Messiah, if they did not have wings, were trapped inside until they either moved the boulder or invented a new way out.

Menethil felt sorry for all the humans there, but he could not save them all.

The young lord broke into a sprint and rushed to the second wall as fast as possible.

Not one single villager or citizen could be seen along the way. They were all at the second line of defense, in shelter.

What was spotted however, were demons. And lots of them.

As the prince was sprinting through an alley way, flanked on both sides by wooden houses, further in the distance were many spawns of Sheog. They noticed him approaching.

Their sizes were varying. Around ten multi headed hounds about as tall as a dwarf. Around seven human like demons coiled up in chains. Around ten female demons. Around five large bulking demons twice the size of a human. And one single armored up figure as tall as the last. That one was most likely that group's leader.

It pointed its massive axe at Menethil, ordering its troops to attack the young lord. "Look children! It is the traitor Messiah!" They knew...

Of course they would.

How could they not?

The entirety of Sheog must have been well aware of who he was by now.

It should not have come as a surprise then that demons invaded Stonehelm. They were most likely after him and-

... Oh no... No, no, no...

Dragon gods no!

'Xana!' The spawns of Sheog most likely knew about her as well.

Menethil was in a much worst position than he originally anticipated.

The hounds started running towards him, only to be jumped over in style as the Dark Messiah had absolutely no time to dwindle with them.

One option would have been to just use Dragontooth to annihilate every single foe in his way with a single mighty wall of flame. But as far as he'd heard from Xana about Sheog, the demon prison was entirely sunk in flames and as such, a fire based attack could pretty much be useless against them. Could. Possibility unconfirmed yet.

In short, testing this theory out at that time would have been a waste of time.

After having evaded the dogs by jumping over them spectacularly, the female demons, other succubus, which for the record were ten times uglier than Xana, started casting fire from their hands at the young lord.

All of them missed so gloriously!

Their leader almost slapped their behinds with anger for such a spectacular failure.

Whizzing through the lines of demons with thundering speed, Menethil arrived at the back of the gathering of misfits, more specifically where the large demons were located. The armored figure waited with axe raised, intending on bringing it down upon the young lord with all his might.

He already gloated after the reward he would get for killing the traitor Messiah.

But alas, he had not the time to slash as Sareth seemingly vanished from within vision range.

Confused at first, the armored demon understood where Menethil had went when the young lord landed with his foot above the towering demon's head, using him as a mere stepping stone.

At that point Sareth jumped past all of them, landing on the stone road ten meter away and slamming his legs heavily on the ground. The fact that magic was used in that action resulted in the raising of a ten meter high wall behind the prince, stopping anyone from using that road any further.

Not wasting a second more, the Dark Messiah continued his sprint, but was starting to feel the sensation of fatigue. The battle earlier had taken a toll on him. His body could only endure so much.

Passing through Stonehelm like a storm, Menethil ignored and pushed aside any demons in his way. When his eyes no longer saw any spawns of Sheog ahead, he stopped, looking behind at the crowd he managed to attain.

There must have been a hundred or two demons of various forms chasing the young lord.

He had not the time to fight them and if he create a wall of earth, the demons would have most likely just piled on top of each other to create a stair case. Not to mention that some of them could fly.

So Menethil opted for option number two: he gripped Dragontooth with both hands, the blade lighting aflame due to reading his thoughts, and the Dark Messiah swung his mighty sword in a vertical slash.

The wall of flame that was released proved useful as his pursuers slowed down. The fact that they were bunched together so nicely was their undoing as the wave of fire inevitably hit and consumed them all in a symphony of screams and wails.

Sareth slightly hated this decision because he lit a portion of his city on fire...

Surely, this would come to bite him in the ass later.

But it would have been a million times better if it bit him while Xana was safe and sound.

Turning around, Menethil was surprised to see that a bigger demon landed ten meters away from him, in the city square, the market place for everyday purchases.

This demon was as big as the pit lord, but was noticeably different.

First, it did not carry a big stone sword. Instead, it seemed like its skin was made of volcanic rock, lava pumping through the beast like blood through Menethil.

Two giant horns curved upwards adorned its head, along with a most impressive red mane that reached all the way towards the back.

Its face bore the shape of the helmet of a knight, two very visible red circles as eyes.

Its tail was covered in thick spikes, though thankfully the upper part was devoid of any such protrusions.

Its hands were like that of humans. Its legs were shaped backwards, ending up in hooves. Molten hooves, that was.

Menethil damned it all. He damned his existence as the Dark Messiah. Why did he have to go through all of this?! Why couldn't he just be left alone with his dearest?

After a sigh, the prince dodged the right hand of the beast which slammed itself on his previous location like a boulder.

Jumping onto said hand, the young lord then hopped on the thing's head and further behind it.

The second wall of Stonehelm was in sight... But for only a second as the demon's fat tail slammed into Mene988thil, sending the young lord crashing through two buildings.

The young lord landed on another stone road entirely. Anger started overwhelming him as the Dark Messiah got up.

The demon of rock jumped after him, landing with earth shattering pressure and roaring maddeningly at Sareth.

But not being able to give a damn crap, Menethil dropped Dragontooth and summoned the remainder of his mana. He channeled it all into his hands, forming lighting and striking the beast with the fury of a god.

Not only was lightning coursing through his hands, but it also fell from the sky and hit the giant demon until it turned into nothing but dust and ash.

 **PART FOUR:**

The second line of defense was a mess. The gate was raised, allowing Menethil unhindered access.

Broken bodies and gore were littered just about everywhere, but there were no demons in sight, dead or alive. Their absence was more scary than their presence, for it meant that fighting ensued there whilst Menethil was dealing with the undead threat.

"No!" The young lord shouted, once more starting to sprint.

He busted open through the mansion's big doors, but was hit by a lightning spell immediately upon enter.

In fact, three people casted 'lightning' at him.

That level of pain, combined with his fatigue really took a toll on the young lord, causing him to fall head first onto the ground, nearly knocked out. Dragontooth fell out of his grasp.

"I see you managed to arrive, boy." Menethil silently cursed.

He could recognize that voice anywhere.

It was the voice of the man whom raised Sareth since very young, something he hoped to never ever hear again: Phenrig, his master and caretaker, a person Sareth once looked up to.

"Bring him here." Two cultists dressed in red robes picked up the young lord and his humungous set of armor with telekinesis. They met no resistance from Menethil, as he was thoroughly exhausted. He could not oppose anyone, neither through physical nor magical means.

The young lord had been brought upstairs, where a throne used to lay, and been placed on his knees.

"Sareth!" The voice was so sweet and so soothing...

"... Xana!" Menethil woke up for good, his eyes taking in the full scenery.

In the middle of a big demonic circle painted and written in blood, the succubus lay. She sat with her inflated belly up, as she carried her lover's child.

Menethil's vision was blocked by the figure of his mentor.

"Look at you." He started almost jealously. "In your fancy suit of armor." He hit the prince over the face with a wooden club. "With your own city." Hit again. "With a woman and about to be a father."

Phenrig dropped the club and had caught Sareth's head within his hands, discharging electricity at the young lord.

Menethil screamed in pain, but his body did not respond to his commands. Lightning coursed through his entire being, weakening him further.

Resistance was not possible at this point.

When the pain ended, the boy was allowed to fall forward, landing on his elbows and feeling very dizzy.

He did however manage to raised his eyes up to see Xana: the succubus lay down in her demonic form, with her left hand extended towards him.

When had Phenrig done all this? Whose blood was it that stained the floor? For how long had he known? For how long had he been there?

The warlock circled Sareth and spoke: "Was it worth throwing everything away?" More than he knew. "You are a failure!" He was a bigger success than his master was aware of. "You had godly power at the tip of your fingers, yet here you hide playing king!" It was a million times better to serve in heaven, than rule in hell.

Menethil's head leaned left, causing him to catch sight of Rena Falcon. The poor girl stared at him fearfully and regretfully. The fact that she and Xana were no longer in the same body meant that Rena was aware of the situation.

She most likely knew she was used as a mere vessel and was staring at the man whom she believed only 'pretended' to love her. Her belly did not contain unborn life within in.

The possibility was high that she already knew his true identity, if his master's preachings were anything to go about.

Phenrig kicked Sareth's head up, causing the lad to curse silently. The warlock then approached the succubus, pressing his foot against her neck and forcing Xana to fight for breath.

"As for you wench... there may yet be use for you." His gaze shifted to the inflated belly, giving pretense to what was in store for Xana.

The situation was very damn dire. Sareth's former master and his damned cultists were about to do something to his dearest. For what other reason would they put her in a bloody circle with scribblings on it?

Four warlocks approached on the sides of the circle, beginning their chanting and emanating mana from the palms of their hands, it being visible through sparks of lightning which arched across the floor.

"Sareth!" Xana managed to cry out one last time before she vanished...

 **PART FIVE:**

The succubus was gone, not even ashes were left in the wake of her disappearance...

That was somewhat good, because it indicated that the princess had not been disintegrated out of existence. But it was far worse a fate than being turned to ashes, because now, she was outside Sareth's reach, and most likely in the jaws of danger.

Sareth had to search for her. That was... If he was not just killed in the next few minutes.

"Begin the second ritual!" Phenrig ordered. His cultists started to pick up bodies of dead citizens and extracted their blood with magic which they then placed it around the young lord.

Oh gods they were placing the blood around Sareth!

That could not have ended well...

"Despite all this, I am however pleased that you managed to find the Skull of Shadows." A warlock approached with the Skull of the Seventh Dragon levitating between his palms.

Phenrig then took the sacred artifact by making it levitate around his left palm and said with a morbid voice: "The girl."

His cultists pulled Rena up and dragged her towards Sareth.

When she arrived in front of him, the two connected eyes. Hers spoke a silent 'how could you?' at Menethil. She most definitively understood that all the time they were together, her dear husband saw a different woman in her each time he looked at her.

The young lord diverted his attention sideways.

But it was not to be as the young lord's master grabbed his face and pulled it back towards the woman. "Look at this!" He said through clenched teeth.

The next second, a warlock slashed Rena's throat open, blood spurting and landing on Menethil as the girl fell to her knees, grabbed her crimson neck and collapsed.

The Dark Messiah's visage became full of morbid surprise. Rena died before his very eyes...

"You see this? This is what you are meant to do!" Phenrig shouted in a near maddening rage.

With a hand, he signaled for his cultists to back away. After wards, with the same hand, he grabbed Sareth's head, starting to chant and channel mana.

A surge of power activated within the Skull, visible yellow energy pouring into Phenrig and traveling through his arms, entering Sareth's mind... The prince began to scream of pain at the outcome.

What were they doing to him?

They were trying to open Sheog's gates.

But they did not know it was impossible.

Only the Dark Messiah could do it.

Phenrig just assumed he could open the gates by having both the Skull and Sareth in the same place at once.

But that was his undoing: the Skull's power made the warlock burst into an explosion of gore, scattering his pieces everywhere and scaring his cultists.

The Skull then approached Sareth, connecting with him via the use of lightning bolts, arcing across the Dark Messiah like strings.

Massive energy started pouring into the prince.

It was so powerful that being anywhere close to it would mean certain death.

Around Menethil was created a deathly field that eradicated everything in its wake. The stone floor was first. It was destroyed on a two meter radius around Sareth, but the young lord had not fallen.

The Skull kept him levitating. The deathly field then expanded as Demon Messiah screamed, completely covering the insides of the building and making his mansion explode outwards with an orange glow, killing everyone and destroying everything it could.

Then it happened: the Skull itself blew apart to reveal a small red gem inside of it in the shape of an ice cycle.

That gem thrusted itself into Menethil's forehead, permanently fusing with him and causing the young lord to scream even more.

The rest of the Skull embedded itself within the prince's chest, where the heart lay, passing through the Armor of Absolution with absolute ease and causing it to shatter away from Sareth.

Energy immediately enveloped the Dark Messiah in an egg like cocoon, creating a powerful blast that swept the entirety of Stonehelm, destroying the ins of the free city completely.

In a moments notice, the fusion was completed. Sareth's body had begun to shift. He grew three times taller, his skin changing colors and his head springing horns on the sides of the red gem.

He was no longer Menethil.

He was no longer Sareth.

He was just the Demon Messiah.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN:**

 **PART ONE:**

The sun went dim, the ether was crimson.

Clouds of both red and black plagued the sky with no visible sign of light to the liking of mortal kind.

The wind whistled, vast volumes of smoke and fire revealed to be vigorously carried by its gush.

Not even an Angel could smile on such a day.

Stonehelm was no more, all of its inhabitants dead. All but one.

Having moved his head right allowed Reilight to set eyes upon Stonehelm's last survivor: the son of Kha-Beleth and herald of the end, the Dark Messiah!

The Archdemon stood six meters tall and wore a battle dress: a black skirt of silk with a silver waist guard that covered the lower half. The only other form of protection present was a silver gauntlet that adorned the entirety of the Messiah's left arm. There were no wings on its back.

In its right hand was a large two meter sword made of silver and inscribed with red symbols.

Its skin displayed a combination of both orange and brown. Two mean looking spikes stood emerged from the sides of its head and pointed defiantly at the sky. Not one trace of hair remained.

In between the horns, a red stone sparkled vigorously.

In its chest, where the heart laid, several similar gems glimmered brightly, their color orange.

A grin was allowed to form on Reilight's face.

The man laid down amidst grass. He enjoyed having seen the pit lord get thrown into the air and then slashed in half several moments earlier. And he especially liked how the free city of Stonehelm went up in a reddish color.

The perpetrator of the act now approached the warrior.

The Dark Messiah was in fact merely wondering in that general direction. The prince was not intentionally aiming for the man.

Just as Reilight knew he would.

When the distance between the two was of twenty meters, the Archdemon stopped.

Reilight got up, faced the monster and raised his arms sideways. He pointed them in opposite directions as a gesture of 'Well, what is it?!' or as if he wanted to hug someone.

"I have been waiting for you, Dark Messiah!" The grin on his face only grew more pleased. "I am the remains of the Seventh Dragon! Reilight is my name!"

But those words passed by the prince like he hadn't even received them. His eyes stabbed the grass beneath their feet, burdened by untold amounts of sorrow and grief, yet not by tears.

Reilight saw none of that. He only saw purpose.

"You may be thinking: 'What do you mean?'. I will tell you. I am the side of Sar-Elam that refused to become the Seventh Dragon! As such, I was cast aside from the pathetic wizard I was once part of and became whole on my own!"

Reilight raised his right hand forward and pointed. "Today, I am here to fight you." The remains of the Seventh was dead serious in his challenge, not one shred of doubt or hesitation in his words. And most importantly of all, he was not joking in the tiniest of amounts.

The warrior drew his blade and prepared for combat, but he permitted the Archdemon a tiny moment of peace with itself in order to digest the situation.

That instance of time only lasted around ten seconds before the Messiah's head cracked up, visible fury contained within, and recognized the need to do battle.

Dragontooth fit this six meter tall behemoth form much better than the short two meter one. It was like a regularly sized sword now.

The moment the fire breathing blade pointed audaciously at the sky was when Reilight dashed forward. He immediately arrived onto the demon's chest with a diagonal swing via method of leaping.

But there was no cut. The Messiah's skin was nothing if not formidably tough.

The aftermath of Reilight's dash was that he had to steer left and outside the reach of Dragontooth, which heavily slammed itself onto the ground in an attempt to hit the warrior prior to his attack.

In the process, the wrathful blade released myriad flames of rage and anger. Said fire jumped off the giant sword and became a wave of infernal disaster which traveled at least a hundred meters before it finally burned out. In the process, it scorched much terrain and killed whatever was unlucky enough to be in its way.

The remains of the Seventh made contact with and slid upon the ground, but quickly regained his footing and launched himself once more upon the enemy. His attack came in the form of a thrust that miraculously penetrated the Archdemon's back and erupted through the front.

The blade passed right through the stomach, in other words, the gut.

But, there was no cry of pain.

The Messiah used his left hand and grabbed the steel sword. In a motion as if to scratch one's back, Dragontooth was aimed at Reilight with the intention to kill, whatever the damage to one's own self.

The bringer of the end successfully missed.

Rei jumped off of the Archdemon and abandoned his own weapon.

The fiery great sword did not collide with the prince's back and thus, had no chance to deal damage.

After having landed around fifteen meters away, the remains of the Seventh recalled his blade in a similar fashion to how he had done back at the naga capitol's stadium two months ago.

Except that this time, it did not come.

The Archdemon held it in tight grip as he turned around towards the warrior. A mix of both sadness and anger were visible on its orange visage.

It knew that it had become the Dark Messiah destined to destroy the world. It knew that it had to die for the safety of Ashan. It knew.

But he could not accept it.

Not as long as its beloved could still be saved.

Not as long as its child still had the potential to draw breath.

If the world ended up in flames, the Archdemon was fine with it as long as it could see its loved ones one final time.

What could the prince do when the best part of him was Xana?

Reilight grinned at that line of thought. He was in complete and utter agreement: damn the whole world; one had to protect only that which was most important to them and say: 'Fuck everything else!'.

That was what it meant to be free! To choose one's own destiny!

Not have it sewn amidst countless others in an unending web of lies and deceit.

Why did the Messiah have to give a fuck about the world when the world didn't give a fuck about him?

Who cared about what others thought? All of mortal kind were selfish, there was no saving them.

That included Reilight.

These were opinions that the man held in very high regard and could, with neither shame nor fault, admit them willingly at any given time and place.

He had never met anyone devoid of any sort of sin or desire: never seen anyone who truly and utterly devoted themselves to the pleasing and well being of others.

The citizens of the Empire? No. They were only acting the 'good at heart' part because they feared that the executioner's axe would be upon them immediately should they perform any differently.

There was not one single peasant, soldier or priest who did not want that large bag of gold one happened to drop in the middle of the street for themselves when they drew one's attention and brought back it to its rightful owner.

There was not one single person who did not envy the rich prick who had loads of beautiful women, was constantly protected, ate well and slept soundly at night.

Such was the nature of humanity: everybody wanted what they didn't have and despised those who did.

Humans, elves, dwarves, orcs and all other sentient beings. All of them had humanity.

Even Angels hungered for one thing or another.

But at the same time, they all strived towards one singular goal. They all wanted to find and fulfill their purpose in life, be it for the betterment, negligence or worsening of themselves or of others.

Reilight lifted his right foot and stomped forward. His hands then raised themselves at face level and assumed a fighting stance. The warrior then noticed that his blade began moving.

It headed left through the Dark Messiah's body. In any other situation, that action would have been a horizontal slash that was sure to bring the death of whoever suffered the blow.

Not in this case.

The long sword coursed through the Archdemon's stomach as if it was a water elemental, minus the 'splash' part.

In but a non existent second, the weapon was separated from the prince's body without so much as a hint that the two ever made contact.

The Dark Messiah had decided it was a good idea to use it as well.

'Bastard's got my sword.' Reilight cursed.

But by no means had it impeded the warrior's ability to fight.

The remains of the Seventh busted forth into motion. His adversary responded quick and lifted both weapons. The prince intended to slam them against the charging man.

But Reilight was fast, nimble and swift all together.

As he arrived at the feet of the behemoth of a demon, the warrior jumped up at maximum speed, slipped past the falling weapons and hit the bringer of the end times in the chin with his knee.

The Messiah's head had been thrown backwards, but the impact of the blow did not hurt him.

Neither did it weaken his footing.

The remains of the Seventh grabbed onto one of his opponent's horns and used it to swing himself onto his adversary's back. There, Reilight drove an arm towards the frontal side of the neck and gripped the demon so as to choke him.

Power immediately surged within the prince. It exploded outwards and all around him in a massive flux of energy that spanned thirty or so meters of radius.

Reilight had seen it coming. Before the blast occurred, the warrior let go of the Messiah's neck and jumped as high up as he could.

Then the release of energy happened, a thing which boosted Rei's leap and threw him even higher.

The prince looked up.

One more life gone onto the wind.

'It had to be done.' He kept telling himself that.

Things had to happen, not because he wanted them to, but because they needed to.

There was now one less adversary in the path to his beloved…

… The whistling of the wind betrayed it: Reilight hadn't died.

Instead, the remains of the Seventh was revealed to have been diving downwards at full speed. Magic enhanced his descent as Reilight aimed for the Demon Messiah. He approached like a meteor...

There was nowhere to run, the prince just knew it.

This warrior was going to impact the ground and cause a massive elemental release that was sure to catch the Archdemon in its blast radius as well.

He chose option number two: the Messiah was going meet the blow head on.

The prince discarded his newly acquired weapon and focused all of his energy and power onto Dragontooth. He then waited for the moment in which the adversary was destined arrive.

Three…

Two…

One…

… Everything went up in flames. The clash caused a gigantic blast of power to surge and scar the land: Reilight's fist against Dragontooth.

Which was stronger?

The thundering fury of a thousand year old fist?

Or the rageful might of a dragon's tooth?

In the far distance, trees lit up like torches.

In a single split second, the silver crested blade bent and broke under the strain. The thundering blow which the remains of the Seventh packed pierced like lightning through stone.

The warrior's fist continued on to hit the Dark Messiah's forehead and knock him down flat on the ground.

When the surge of power dissipated one very clear picture could be made out: Reilight stood on top of a fallen Archdemon, victorious!

Air coursed in and out of the fighters lungs, in much higher proportions than usual.

He stepped off the defeated one, lowered his upper body and supported it with his arms against his legs.

"Ya know…" He was gasping. "I haven't been this exhausted in a long while…"

Reilight looked over to where the broken parts of Dragontooth laid, several meters away from their whole affair.

The remains of the Seventh assumed his regular posture.

With a single thought, the ultra great sword had started to levitate. It drew closer to the warrior. The one who beckoned onto the blade then extended his left hand towards the ruins of Stonehelm.

With a thundering sound, Soulrend pierced through stone and tree in order to arm Reilight. The demonic one meter long sword looked tiny in comparison to Dragontooth in both might and size.

But none of that mattered.

Reilight brought Soulrend and the pieces of Dragontooth together. He ushered not one word as magic engulfed both blades.

What happened after wards could only be described as the most miraculous of treacheries: the two swords fused together.

That was right, they had molded into one single object of war, namely: Dragonrend.

This newly formed weapon was three meters long, a true monstrosity.

It still had one single edge.

The hilt shifted to accommodate one hand usage. The rest was made of silver with a crimson stone at the end of its construction.

Its dwarven like runes disappeared, replaced by a curved line of red gems which glowed maliciously onto the beautiful weapon.

"I've fixed your blade and improved it. Now get up. You're embarrassing yourself." Reilight addressed the fallen foe as if his entire battle fatigue faded.

What followed next was to be expected: the prince scurried up slowly.

Or he attempted to.

The Archdemon's body began to rise, but with difficulty. It would have taken him around ten seconds or so to stand up. Without a doubt, life was still present within him, just in smaller proportions.

But Reilight had lost his patience.

The remains of the Seventh raised Dragonrend onto his shoulder. He next jumped up a good ten meters into the air and slammed down onto the Dark Messiah with the newly forged blade.

He'd pierced the demon right in its blasphemous heart.

The prince had not expected this attack to come, nor had he expected to feel the soul eating ability of Soulrend used against him.

The warrior stepped off his soon to be dead adversary.

He approached the prince and drove both arms around the red gem embedded within the Messiah's head.

Red lightning began sparking between Reilight's palms and connected his mind to the crimson gem. The remains of the Seventh then moved one hand to touch Dragonrend. Electricity coursed through the weapon to reach the orange stones in the prince's heart.

In other words, Rei touched the Skull of the Seventh Dragon… Of his better self...

A resonance happened.

The red sparkling jewel shot a tremendously powerful line of energy towards the sky.

Reilight jumped a good thirty meters away from the Dark Messiah and grinned.

He knew what he'd unleashed.

Almost like a reanimation, the Archdemon began levitating from his downed state back onto its feet.

Dragonrend slid out of the body of its owner until it was lose and able to fall onto the ground below.

Immense power started to circle the prince. This massive amount of energy gave birth to a thick red pillar which surged towards the sky incredibly fast, with the Dark Messiah at its core.

Reilight's grin grew wider.

The man had had carnal knowledge of some of the fairest maidens in existence and had tasted some of the finest foods and drinks in all of Ashan.

But none of it…

… NONE OF IT!-

-compared to the feeling of doing battle with the strongest there ever was.

This was the fight he was waiting for! The Messiah was finally going towards his full potential! All because Rei used his identity as 'former' Seventh Dragon to destroy the seals of power from the Skull and grant it all to the Archdemon!

Or nearly all...

Similar to the bringer of the end times, a black pillar of power erupted around Reilight. It too pierced the sky.

A premonition was in the air: two incredibly powerful forces were about to battle.

Was this Ashan's doom?

 **PART TWO:**

The sky was unsettled. Black and red clouds shifted rapidly to indicate danger. Foretelling's of dark events that were to come...

In normal times, evil was to be fought by good.

But in times like those… Well… Each had to be fought by another kind of evil.

However, no matter how terrifying the night, dawn always awaited right behind the next corner.

The raw undiluted energy encased the remains of the Seventh in a sphere of energy.

The two combatants received damn right astronomical power, the kind of stuff that could rival even the dragon gods themselves!

The Archdemon had been filled to the brim. He now patiently waited for, and thanked, his adversary.

Reilight was his name? The Messiah swore to carve it into the deepest reaches of his mind, never to be forgotten, for… It was thanks to this brave warrior that the prince now had enough power to make anyone who stood in the way of his reunion with Xana, shrink.

Or almost everyone.

There was still the matter of the surging pillar which Reilight emitted.

Almost like a response, a menacing shriek was loudly heard.

During a single second, the vortex of power dissipated… In its wake was left only the amazingly superior form of a god.

Reilight had transformed into a skeletal dragon whose bones were completely black. Yellow symbols and markings flowed on his fifteen meter tall body like a river.

This being was no longer worthy of being described as 'Reilight'.

It was much more fitting to be called the 'Seventh Dragon'.

"KHA-SARETH!" It bellowed in a furious voice. "I AM THE SEVENTH DRAGON! AND I WILL BE YOUR UNDOING!"

Kha-Sareth?

It appeared as though that was to be the Archdemon's new name…

A minor quantity of power flowed from the aforementioned individual's head gem and encased the prince in a protective ward similar to the 'Sanctuary' spell, but a heck of a lot more resilient.

Dragonrend was in his right hand. A surge of red power similar to lightning covered the blade and amplified its striking potential tremendously.

The Archdemon summoned energy in his left hand. In response, a bright red Eldritch bolt materialized to life.

Kha-Sareth looked at the fifteen meter monstrosity of a dragon ahead of himself. He then prepared to throw the Eldritch bolt right at it…

When he had done it however, it felt as if reality itself bended to shift against the bringer of the end times.

The Eldritch bolt was aimed and thrown at the spine, the center of mass and gravity around the Seventh Dragon.

Very surprisingly, the black bones detached themselves and got out of the way of the attack.

The projectile then traveled a good kilometer or two in the distance before it exploded into a damn right GIGANTIC pillar of destructive energy that surged towards the sky. The blast radius was approximately five hundred meters wide…

Such was the power that the bringer of the end times possessed.

Indeed, the situation seemed quite hopeless. Was this the end of Ashan?

… The answer was no.

The Dragon's mouth opened menacingly. Yellow energy gathered in the center of its neck, meant to be shot through its large maw.

It charged this attack while the Messiah waited patiently. He too wanted to see just how destructive their battle truly was.

The light from the surroundings was absorbed by the charging attack of the Seventh. Everything darkened…

The Archdemon lifted Dragonrend just in time for the immense amount of power from the Seventh's mouth to be released.

The attack came in the form of a bright yellow line which impacted Kha-Sareth's sword and created a power struggle between the energy on the blade and that which was being thrown at it.

With a simple hand movement, the prince tilted his blade so as to divert the raw energy beam onto the ground left of their battle.

The power went like a line across the landscape. After nary a second, the pathway it traveled became a fiery inferno of destruction.

Flames went up seven meters in height. They were sure to kill anything that was unfortunate enough to be in its blast radius.

The Dark Messiah's attention returned to its adversary. He was glad to have the privilege of doing battle with such a challenging foe.

The Archdemon took a step forward and jumped at the skeletal figure in order to attack.

Dragonrend fell on its rib cage and discharged massive amounts of red lightning which electrified the Seventh. The blade then proceeded downwards to sever a few bones.

The mighty Dragon let out what could have been described as a cry of pain, but seemed more like a cry of joy.

In a sick and twisted sense, Reilight was happy to feel pain. It was a sensation which he had been looking for all of the centuries apart from his true self.

Nine hundred eighty nine years he lived without feelings, his emotions buried and undiscovered, but never forgotten.

The being he once was part of never left his memory. As such, he sought out what he did not have.

Along the way, he discovered new feelings.

A love for battle. He adored and reveled in the clashing of sword.

The satisfaction of a slain enemy.

The sensation of superiority.

The fulfillment of a well lived life.

Battle and women.

Glory and triumph.

Admiration of self above all else!

But… There was also a feeling of drawback…

Not one single enemy proved strong enough to withstand his blade.

Not one single woman out of several hundreds capable of delivering his child...

However, immense joy followed in the wake of his meeting with the Eternal Empress. He rediscovered a long lost sentiment: the feeling of emotional love and true carnal pleasure.

And then, there was even higher sensation to be found in the prospect of doing battle with one of the strongest beings to ever set foot on Ashan: the Demon Messiah!

The Seventh Dragon literally loved it.

When the Archdemon's feet contacted the ground once more, the prince had the unpleasant experience of having been rushed by both skeletal wings of his opponent.

The Seventh wanted to repay Kha-Sareth in kind for the new feelings he experienced, so he slammed his adversary in between both claws.

The prince threw his arms sideways so as to protect himself. Sparks of energy visibly emanated from the points of intersection between the two: both of them powered their energy to hurt the other.

Kha-Sareth looked up. He had the same idea as the Seventh.

The skeletal Dragon's mouth stood open, yellow energy once more gathered for a massive finisher.

The Archdemon complied: the red gem on his forehead sparkled to life by the gathering of power.

The intentions were clear…

In a moments notice, the two had a power struggle. Both beams connected successfully.

One yellow.

One red.

One represented supreme salvation.

And the other, the doom of all.

They both pushed against one another. A resonating sound constantly emanated from the impact.

It felt like the fate of the entire world hanged in that very moment. It felt like one single misstep or mistake could have destroyed the entirety of Ashan.

The air was filled with it.

Everywhere was darkness. All the light was absorbed by the two beams of pure destruction.

But one started to overpower the other… The red one… Pushed the yellow one back…

In an instant, the Messiah's beam overpowered the Seventh's own and reached all the way towards the cranium.

The Dragon's head was hit hard and blown back. Its wing arms disconnected from the prince as its entire body fell backwards.

Light once more revealed the surroundings.

The Archdemon stepped forward. He looked at the fallen opponent, whom was supposed to save Ashan from his wrath and destructive ways.

Even he felt sorrow to see the 'hero' of the story fall.

Unfortunately, this was not the Seventh Dragon of old, whom had the power to lock all demons into Sheog.

This was but a mere shadow of its former self...

"I'm sorry." Those were his first ever words as the Demon Messiah.

The red gemstone at the forehead sparkled to life once more. Kha-Sareth aimed it at the Seventh Dragon...

The prospect of defeat… Of death… From behind his skeletal figure, Reilight's grin could not have been wider.

He couldn't wait for it!

This was going to be another new sensation he had never experienced before: to lose.

"Do… It." The Seventh's head slowly skittered up to face his killer and stared into his regretful eyes.

Almost as if he screamed 'Do not deny me this sensation!', the Dragon menacingly shouted: "DOOO IIITT!"

 **PART THREE:**

Every single person who lived on Ashan believed that, only facts that were favorable to them were the truth. They knew no other way to live.

But for the powerless who made up most of the world, facts that acted against them were the only truths.

All warriors were despised members of society because they were good for one thing and one thing only: to kill.

A peasant might have seen them noble heroes. But a truly cultured man knew their hidden nature.

They all longed to kill. To be savage. To demote civilization.

The difference between a guardian and a warrior lied in whose orders they obeyed.

The guardian bowed to a ruler and fought to protect others.

The warrior was its own master and fought to fulfill its own desires and wants.

Reilight was a warrior.

For centuries he sought out that which he never had since his separation from Sar-Elam.

Though death, he now gained everything back…

The knowledge of how things stood for Reilight represented the first instance where Kha-Sareth shed tears.

The stone armor which hardened around his heart fell apart. The Archdemon could now understand and associate perfectly with the shell of a man whom once tried his very best to become whole on his own, but never succeeded.

The prince looked at the ashes of his most recently obtained friend.

To his right waited the ruins of Stonehelm.

To his left could be seen the path into the world.

What was he supposed to do now?

Where was he supposed to go?

To the right, where nothing was left?

Or to the left, where nothing was right?

The sky finally settled into a stern crimson.

The wind calmed down, but a slight breeze still whistled by.

One by one, the ashes of the Seventh Dragon were scattered across the landscape.

It was a pitiful sight.

… Until one surprising fact happened: the cinders of the Reilight started moving.

Almost as if they had sprung to life, the ashes gathered to form an ever growing pile… It continued to enlarge until it reached one meter height.

Like a flower forced to bloom very quickly, the pile exploded from inside out and revealed its secret: the figure of a man.

A human.

Bare naked.

Bald.

Hands coiled around the body.

Red tattoos.

Slowly came to life.

As if it were a construction of clay, its hands separated from the body with glue like drawbacks.

The lower half broke from one entity into two legs.

Next, its head rose. Slow. Pained. Saw light for the first time.

The eyes spasmed in confusion, before they finally settled fully aligned.

The mouth broke open. It took in air for the first time in forever.

A coughing sound happened.

"… Gree... Tings, my lord... I am Sar... Shazzar..."

 **PART FOUR:**

"I would like not to say, 'I've told you so'." Malassa inquired. "But I did."

The seven dragons once more gathered for a conversation that concerned the Demon Messiah and his impact upon the world of Ashan.

"He has shifted to his true form. Now it is only a matter of time befor-"

"So what do you suggest we do?" Malassa's polar opposite, Elrath, interrupted her. He was just as tensed up as everyone else, if not more so, at the fact that things turned out the way they did. "Both Sar-Issus and the remnants of the Seventh Dragon have failed us. If you know what we should do, speak up." Frustration was visible with each word he uttered.

Shalassa had made a suggestion to shift everybody's mood: "How about we forge an alliance between our people and have all of our armies march upon the Messiah?"

She was answered by Sylanna: "Though we could unite our conflicting nations with our power and influence, this action remains a decision only mother can make."

To suddenly alter the fates of so many was a thing only the dragon of order could ever do successfully. Even if the six poured their power together, they were only able to get a small portion of their intended forces to march in a conflict free alliance against the common foe.

The rest were going to fight themselves over the bare chance of doing battle with the Dark Messiah and save the entirety of Ashan.

All because of selfish reasons.

The dragons tried it before. They discovered that only leaders who shared a deep bond, like brotherhood or strong friendship, or were like minded, could have ever aligned so well for the greater good.

Asha's gaze fell on each of her children. It lingered on them momentarily, before it took in the fact that only four of the elemental dragon's considered the consequences of having to force their people into an alliance.

"Sylath, are you still of the opinion that we should wait?" The dragon of air was one of two who still did not consider taking action.

"... Yes." He spoke in a voice free of guilt.

A thing which Elrath perceived: "So you too are beginning to aid the spawn of Urgash? Was it not already enough that one of us armed him? Now you wish to give him free rain over Ashan?"

"... Yes..." Hesitation and guilt were now present in Sylath's voice.

The very fact that he still did not oppose the bringer of the end left most of the dragons stunned. But not their mother.

"Why?" She asked softly.

"… Do not take this the wrong way, but it may be that we are not his enemy."

Malassa intervened: "What intention other than to kill us could he possibly have now that he has awoken?!" There were visible traces of fury in her voice.

Arkath chuckled with glee. The others turned their attention to him.

Elrath asked: "Why are you laughing? Have you forgotten the aid you provided him?"

"Wrong." Arkath said confidently.

"Huh?"

"You can not understand a warrior's heart." Once more, Arkath chuckled. "You are but a guardian, who cannot see beyond the horizon."

Elrath became confused. "What in the universe are you talking about?"

"Do you still not get it? … We. Have. Won."

 **PART FIVE:**

The burning cascades of lava could not cover the sound of rattling chains as the four cultists came to a halt. They were in a cavern deep below the earth.

More specifically, they were on a levitating platform.

'Immense' was one word to describe it. Chandeliers weren't a necessity because the heated streams of magma which constantly flowed in and out of the room via aqueducts provided sufficient light within.

The long stair case also floated anonymously.

A long red carped guided the new arrivals across the stone floor towards the throne room. He waited patiently for Xana to arrive…

The succubus had a thick metal collar around her neck. Four chains were attached to it, each in the hands of the cultists that escorted her.

The rest of her body had been bound in one single restriction: a magical circlet of runes and symbols that prevented the princess from accessing her power.

Four crimson cloth pieces hung heavily from golden holdings, which like the platform, floated by themselves alongside the whole construction. Each cloth was ten meters tall and two meters wide, with a single meter in between themselves as distance.

The throne was right at the end of the carpet. The one who sat upon it…

… Xana did not want to look at him.

She would have much rather ate dirt for a thousand years than let her eyes once more fall upon the sovereign of Sheog, Kha-Beleth...

Xana's whole face was flushed and brimmed with tears. Nobody said a single damn thing.

Everybody awaited the ruler's decree: the traitor's punishment.

"Look at me!" The Archdemon ordered with fury.

In response, Xana's face and eyes, outside of her own will, obediently followed the command.

She did not want it, but she could not oppose it.

A thousand million years of eating dirt would have still tasted better than to gaze upon the lord of demon kind. Of that, she was now certain.

As he sat upon his throne, Kha-Beleth was three meters tall. The Archdemon was encased in red armor. His helmet had spikes at the top in such a way that it looked like a crown.

His chest plate was trimmed with gold in many condescending horizontal lines. His shoulder pads were round, but they sharpened and narrowed themselves down into spikes that pointed sideways.

His hands were covered in steel as well. The gloves were spiked.

The waist guard bore the presence of some animal's pelt wrapped around it. The leggings were red but trimmed with golden lines. The kneecaps had spikes.

"Have you forgotten why it was I assigned you to that wretched son of mine?"

Xana tried desperately to move her eyes away, and succeeded. She looked slightly towards the left, where she saw two more succubus whom she did not recognize, but were smiling at her sure to be demise.

"Answer me!" The princess did not want to.

A small crimson flash hit her across the face and knocked Xana off her feet. The cultists pulled the chains to drag the succubus up again.

When she once more stood up, Kha-Beleth asked: "Well?"

"… Kill me." It was short, quiet, silent, but definitely there.

Once more, the sovereign of demons waved midair and slapped the impudent traitor back down again.

"Take her to the tower of nightmares and bind her. She is yet useful to Sheog."

How was it that she could have possibly still been useful to them?

She carried the seed of a new Dark Messiah and was half way into delivering it.

"No!" The cultists pulled the chains but discovered some resistance when the princess bit the carpet to not be dragged along.

She felt it would have been a million times better to die than to aid Urgash with another fulfiller of prophecies.

Xana still believed Sareth would come rescue her. She just had to hold onto her sanity…


	11. Chapter 11

**Greetings everyone. I am the creator of Dark Messiah II: Ashes Anew and I adress you directly to inform you on behalf of my absence.**

 **I believe its been a year and a half since I published chapter 10 of this fantastic fanfiction. I appologise for this huge delay. I am entirely to blame here as I prefered playing games instead of continuing a fanfiction I personally wanted to see completed. And I am certain many of you did as well.**

 **Thing is, I already know how the story goes and what happens in it till the end. The path has already been built in my mind.**

 **The only problem was the fact that I had been incomprehensibly lazy. I did not find the will to write it all down.**

 **And for that, I appologise.**

 **Furthermore, regarding the future, I am uncertain how often I will be able to post chapters. Much of my lazyness appears to have vanished, but there is still the matter of my life being somewhat complicated right now.**

 **I must find a job and earn money is the short version.**

 **As it currently stands regarding this story however, I started looking through its chapters some months ago and correcting what I think needs correcting. Some segments have been tossed out in favor of reworked fragments. Certain events play out differently but end at the same conclusion. You are not required to re-read the entire fanfic in order to enjoy the content up ahead.**

 **I am saying this to show that I am not afraid to remake or even toss out complete stories if I deem them unsuitable for my readers enjoyment. This is something I am certain a large portion of writers don't do.**

 **Alas, please leave reviews and give me your feedback on the story, if for no reason other than it pumps me full of adrenaline and the desire to continue wanting to write the story.**

 **…** **I believe that is all I wanted to say. Without further ado, enjoy!**

* * *

 **CHAPTER ELEVEN:**

 **PART ONE:**

In this world, few were those who could ever hold truth over the claim that they'd done battle with a dragon and emerged victorious. It was a precarious and bold allegation that even fewer were willing to believe, with and without solid evidence, and the reason for it was painstakingly clear: One simply had to be absolutely, supremely, maddeningly, bat shit crazy to even think of going up to a dragon and challenge the horrific monstrosity to a one on one fight.

"Over here! You witless worm!"

Or at least… That held true for most of humanity and those of a similar stature.

The one whom was so obnoxiously suicidal as to walk up to a dragon and challenge it to a fight was a warrior that went by the name Reilight. The dragon he was taunting was located in a lake of lava, onto a platform of molten rock, inside of a volcano.

Its scales were a fiery red that pulsed with heat and anger. Its head rose on top of a long neck and twisted from its position until the foolish challenger came into view.

It appeared that Relight was disturbing the beasts comfortable rest. The warrior was dressed in his black leather armor, with cape and all.

The only missing thing was his weapon.

But such was not an issue because that was exactly the reason why he was there.

"Dragon! I'm here to make a weapon out of you!"

"HOW DARE YOU!" It bellowed in an angry voice.

The platform started shaking as the massive beast rose from rest to face this challenger. It then extended its wings wide and roared most loudly in preparation for combat. Even the lava beneath the rock erupted into motion at its scream: several geyser like break outs pierced the ground, but it didn't matter.

The only thing that mattered was if the beast would be able to put up a decent fight.

The distance between the two was of roughly fifty meters.

Reilight stomped forward and crouched. Immediately after, he bursted forth into motion.

The dragon's response was that it inhaled air and exhaled flame. Its breath engulfed the entire platform into a blazing inferno.

The flames swallowed Reilight whole, before the beasts own eyes. This caused it to snicker in disappointment.

And yet, it was interrupted when a powerful blow landed at the back of its head. Its massive cranium was thrown onward and its front legs scrambled to stop its fall.

Without a doubt, the hit came from behind.

The dragon immediately asserted one very important information from that fact: This was no regular opponent.

He was not the usual daring warrior come to fulfill some sort of ancient prophecy or up their position in society. Those types of fighters were much weaker that this.

What it was facing that very moment was a true challenger. One capable of inflicting real damage.

The dragon truly thought that the flame swallowed him whole, but was proven wrong nary a moment later.

So, how could it combat an opponent seemingly capable of moving at speeds faster than its eye could track?

The beasts response was to light itself aflame.

With or without a weapon, be the warrior however fast and strong, the flames this dragon covered itself with could consume even other dragons full should they be foolish enough to attempt to touch it.

All it had to do now was wait. If it could not spot its adversary, it simply chose to stand still until its foe met his demise.

Due to the fact that the flame eating away at the platform of rock faded, Reilight was able to land in front of the monster once more. He felt its eyes set upon him with utmost curiosity. They both knew what was going on at that very moment: by simply standing watch, the Dragon was daring him to attack it.

The human took a step back and entered a stance. His left hand was extended forward into a palm, as if to catch an opponents attack. His right was drawn back, at chest level, and cobbled into a fist that gathered strength.

There was a most pleased grin on the dragon's face as it awaited the warrior's move with baited breath. In its minds eye, the blow already struck and the human was swallowed whole by a fire worse that the lava of Sheog itself.

Reilight shot forward like a cannon ball and slammed fist first into the dragon's chest.

The attack hit with such force that it instantly blew away the fire which engulfed the entirety of the scaled beast. The power behind the strike was great enough to even push the dragon off of its front feet and knock it flat on its back.

A roar of pain was loosed from its large mouth.

The dragon truly did not expect the outcome which came. It thought the warrior would end up as ashes decorating its bedrock. Yet instead, it found itself pitifully laying knocked down on its wings, with an aching sensation of pain in its chest.

 **PART TWO:**

Reilight wasted no time and made his way towards the monstrosity's mouth while it was still down. The gaping abyss of teeth and fire stood open due to the confusion which boiled in its mouth.

The human intended to extract a tooth from it.

When he said he'd make a weapon out of the dragon, he was in fact only taunting. The goal was to rile up the beast so as to have it put up more of a fight. And that plan succeeded.

Reilight thrusted both his arms to grab one of the beast's front teeth and began to pull. He had not much success in this regard.

Really should have picked an axe or something to bring with himself earlier…

Having recovered from shock, the dragon gathered an inferno of flame into its mouth and spat. The entirety of its front side, including mouth, chest and a good portion of the air space, were incinerated. It however received no damage.

Reilight landed a good fifty meters away from the beast. He had avoided the attack by a hairs breath.

Quite literally in fact, as he raised his left hand and put out a minor flame that dangled by one of his hair strings above the forehead.

Once more, the arena of molten death shook as the dragon rose to an acceptable stance. Its eyes were now filled fully with hatred and fury. There was nothing it wanted more in that moment than to see the insolent challenger burn for his transgression.

The only response Reilight cooked up, was a grin.

The beast raised its head skywards and began breathing fire towards the volcano's cap. The platform began shaking once more, but the warrior didn't care.

He waited patiently for the monster's attack.

Its retaliation came in the form that the entirety of the volcano erupted with hot lava. The foothold of rock was destroyed and Reilight was left with little breathing room as literally everything sunk in lava.

Large quantities of magma rose from within the volcano and bursted upwards most spectacularly.

This time, for sure, the human was dead, the dragon thought.

Yet it was once more proven wrong when the flame cleared the night sky: Reilight was up high into the air.

And what more, he was engulfed in blue fire and was approaching the scaled beast fast.

The warrior's right hand was gathered into a fist and aimed at the adversary. His impact was destined to cause a magical release capable of possibly shattering the volcano.

The dragon was completely stunned at not only the human's survival, but at the incoming counter attack and permitted the blow to land virtually unopposed.

Reilight slammed with the entirety of his force into the beasts mouth, passed right through its neck and crashed onto the lava lake.

A momentary roar of pain occurred. Shortly after, the dragon melted into lava and sank into the volcano.

The foe was defeated.

From under the lava, a blue bubble of magic emerged that revealed to have sheltered Reilight. This was his doing.

Besides the warrior, one of the dragon's own teeth surfaced from beneath the smoldering lake, it too enveloped in magic. This was what prevented it from liquefying.

Reilight stepped closer to it, not bothered at all by the fact that he walked on lava to get to it. If the dragon couldn't kill him… Burning water wouldn't either.

The magic continued to lock the tooth as Reilight reached out and picked it up, driving it onto his shoulder. Its length was slightly bigger than Reilight, but its weight was without a doubt more than ten times his own.

Possible… Weighed more than a ton.

Magic gathered at Reilight's feet and engulfed him entirely. His vision was darkened.

Next, he was transported through time and space to a place he hadn't before visited: Tor Myrdal, the capital of Grimheim, homeland of the dwarves.

The place Reilight appeared into was one of the many rooms in the pillared halls of the dwarven capitol. His rather stylish and unexpected arrival left all the occupants there shocked.

Not only did his magic create a wave that knocked back any and all nearby dwarves, but it also brought about a man with a giant tusk on his shoulder.

Where he arrived was a smithy room that contained fourteen or so dwarves, all of which gawked speechlessly. They were equipped for working steel, not fighting intruders.

The one guard that was ready for combat did not engage due to being flabbergasted. The man that appeared out of nowhere, unannounced, with a giant tooth on its shoulder gave off a dangerous aura.

Yet also, inexplicably inspiring.

Reilight let the tooth fall onto the floor, which produced a loud, echoing noise throughout the halls. Dwarves far and wide were alerted that something heavy fell and mayhaps they had to stop what they were doing and investigate.

"Master smithy dwarf!" Reilight began pleased, not addressing any particular person. "I have brought you a tooth. Make me a weapon out of it!" His words were quite shocking.

Magic gathered in his right hand and gave birth to a moderately sized bag of gold, which he then threw at the first, still stunned, dwarf in front of him.

The bag was caught reflexively and the smithy shifted eyes to look at it. Hesitantly, he opened the bag and sent his left hand in to inspect its contents. The dwarf pulled out a handful of golden coins and stared.

Confusion was still present.

Not at the fact that those were the only coins in the bag, no, there were many more where those were unearthed from. But from the fact that this… Stranger… Showed up seemingly out of nowhere, handed them a giant tusk and paid them handsomely to forge a weapon out of it.

"I will return later." Those were his final words dedicated to the dumbfounded dwarves before magic once more engulfed Reilight in a sphere of power.

 **PART THREE:**

Mermen were not so good with humidity. Summer had hit hard right as Davion and Freyda had been moving their goods across Ashan.

They were on a convoy of merchants headed towards Tor Myrdal, the capital of Grimheim, homeland of the dwarves.

Davion thought he'd test the quality of his shark metal with that of the sons of Arkath. At the time, him and his wife were in a carriage covered from the sun's wrath. Even so, the air was infernally hot.

The wanizame was sat on his box of tools, near the back end of the carriage. Freyda was sat across him, her lower snake body coiled as best it could to try and be efficiently packed in that small vehicle. She had a fan in her hand with which she was constantly generating wind for her face as she watched Davion sweat.

"You know you're only causing yourself to heat up even more?" The merman asked his wife. She hadn't responded due to lack of hydration.

Freyda only nodded to what he had said and continued to waste her energy on hand motion.

Their water supply was low and the head merchant, who was a human, refused to give them more because they simply required too much.

There was a relief however: they were soon to arrive at a city of the holy empire. There, they could purchase all the water they needed.

… It was funny that… People getting along as such when they should have been chopping each other's heads off…

The merchants present there that day were humans, mermen, undead and dark elves.

Granted, not all of them were going all the way up north, but it was better than traveling by their lone selves. And being taxed everywhere they arrived…

"How long had the human said it would take to reach city Horncrest?" Freyda finally spoke, probably out of want to get there already.

"Half a day." Davion responded. "Were about three quarters of the way through."

"I hope we get there quick. I-"

"WERE UNDER ATTACK!" Interrupted her.

Both their awareness levels spiked. Screams began to erupt throughout the convoy.

Davion reached towards his craftings and grabbed a dual edged blade. That sword in particular was the smith's master piece. Its length was two meters, its thickness resembled three entire blades put together.

It was this very prize he wished to measure up against the work of the dwarves.

"I was hoping to avoid this situation."

Freyda reached out and caught his hand. With weak eyes and voice, she said: "Be careful."

He looked to her and smiled, probably for the last time.

When the smith had got out of the carriage, he could peer upon attackers: the horrid spawns of Sheog.

The wanizame and his goods were in the middle of the whole convoy. Towards the back could be seen undead and dark elves fighting the demons. Towards the front were his naga brethren and some humans doing the same thing.

The numbers appeared to be even.

Quickly, two skinny demons with chains wrapped around their hands and face charged at Davion. He merely gripped his long sword tight and swung it horizontally when they had gotten close enough.

The two foes had been chopped in half at the middle.

The warrior smith had now noticed the attacking force was using an uphill to rain down fire upon his allies. He took it upon himself to deal with them given that he could make a bee line unopposed.

"Davion!" Freyda's voice had been heard behind him.

The wanizame did not turn head to look at her. His wife had done something to help: she used her magic to have their remaining water supply form a barrier around her husband.

This was mighty helpful to Davion, who started to charge the enemy's position.

The uphill was about twenty meters away and was filled with succubae that conjured flames.

The merman was quickly noticed and shot at with fire, but the water barrier did not break.

Four seconds later, the smith was amidst the foe, hacking away relentlessly. One demon fell with each swing.

His allies down below could more effectively fight if there was no fire raining down upon them.

But at that point, about ten fire bolts had hit his shield and the water fell to the ground. Yet that was not as bad as it sounded, as there remained merely one succubus left.

She appeared to be casting, or at least pouring her magic into something. Davion rushed to interrupt whatever it was, but he was blow back by a powerful gust of air.

The demon had begun to decompose rapidly and then be reformed into a bigger shape. What used to be a small succubus had been altered with magic to resemble a near stone like foe driven by strength and rage. She had given herself in exchange for a juggernaut.

The three meters beast was even bigger than Davion.

The wanizami quickly began to get up, yet this foe roared aggressively and charged furiously. The gap between the two was traversed quickly, its arm came crashing into the naga.

Davion had been sent flying back a few good meters. He wasn't sure, but he thought he'd heard his name called by the sweet voice of Freyda.

Nonetheless, the foe had slowed down to savor the moment. It approached slowly.

… By some miracle, a large mass of magic suddenly formed and erupted between the downed naga and the approaching demon. This event also produced a lot of noise. But most curiously, it had brought about a man…

Davion and the juggernaut looked gawking.

How the hell had a human appeared out of nowhere?

After this individual had gotten a look as to where he was, he beckoned the demon to come charging at him.

"Come on." He spoke full of smarminess.

The foe roared aloud and trampled the ground to get its hands on him. Yet as soon as it approached, it was hit so hard that it immediately shattered.

The merman was beyond shocked.

This warrior looked at his feet. There, waited motionless Davion's greatest blade work.

The human bent down, picked it up and inspected it.

By this point the smith rose to his feet.

"Nice sword." Was perhaps too unsatisfying of a compliment for the naga, yet he took it nonetheless.

"Who the hell are you?!" This voice was heard from down below, spat out the mouth of an approaching demon. This one was fully clad in red armor.

"Oh I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" The human started boldly. "Thing is, I heard some Sheog dogs were skulking about and I just had to come see it for myself."

"You… How dare you… I'll have your soul for this!"

"You'll die trying."

The shock of that event never really left Davion's mind. This was the wanizame's first meeting with the crazed warrior Reilight.

 **PART FOUR:**

In all her years of living, the one thing that intrigued her most turned out to be the one with whom she now rested in bed with.

The Empress did not know what to make of it.

This Reilight… Was a giant mystery to her.

He showed up at one of her ceremonies and she challenged him due to having overheard of his 'capability to battle armies by himself'.

They fought, she lost.

'How could it happen?' She wondered.

"You still don't know?" His voice broke the eerie silence which permitted her to think the situation and its outcome through.

Fact was, she accepted his proposal of 'have sex with me to gain my allegiance'. Or rather, she was forced to.

Initially, she refused with a daring 'Certainly not!'. But then, almost as if having known her deepest fears and all of their consequences, Reilight spoke words of a future where her efforts ended up in vain, all for naught.

She would lie defeated, surrounded by the corpses of her naga brethren and the victorious demons of Sheog. And in that silent and detestable moment, she'd wished she'd taken his offer that day, so long ago.

His words pushed her against the wall and he took steps forward to emphasize the situation: She needed his help, desperately.

"You are a… Cruel man." She whispered with frail lips.

He was cruel in the sense that he outplayed her so brilliantly and maliciously.

The Empress lay facing the left side of the bed with whole body. Her legs were drawn up, hands rested close to her face. The blue blanket covered up to the waists of her naked self.

Reilight lay on the bunk as well, behind her. He turned towards the Empress, united his front with her back, placed his right hand on her abdomen and drew his face closer to hers. His gesture was to represent a hug.

Even though she wanted to distance herself from his touch, she had not. The Empress merely sat there, contemplating the situation she was in.

"Such is the nature of the world we live in." His words were spoken softly into her ear, yet held power and truth. "But, despite all this, we seek salvation. This life is an intricate and well thought out lie, and yet, for some, it provides a world full of warmth and resplendence."

She knew. She knew what he meant. What he thought. But most importantly, how he though.

Though it was brief, during their time united in love, she saw a vision, a glimpse of what he truly was, and was stunned.

It intrigued her to no end.

A complex web of gates and plains, some filled by wrath and fury, others by myriad depths of peace and tranquility. All of which were meant to hide something away. But was he aware of it?

Reilight was not a regular human, that much was certain to her.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, curiosity stroke her: She wanted to know what was it that was sealed and protected so vigorously within Reilight. For, without a doubt, it was that certain something which enabled him to best her in the ring of honor.

She needed her womanly charm, a thing which she had not employed in several centuries at least. Could she do it like she once had?

The Empress placed her right hand on top of his and gently spoke: "Will you remain by my side? Please?"

"Our deal did not include additional cherishing. Are you that desperate for my attention?"

This man… She once more felt fury beginning to boil within her. Not only was he not thanking her for gracing him with her divine body, but he was also insinuating that she desired him?!

He planned to make her work for her prize. After all, women most of the time enjoyed a challenge in claiming their man. It was part of one of the main drives that led a female of any kind to picking her most suitable mate.

Yet, despite all of that, Reilight was once again right. The Empress had not found a suitable mate in all her centuries of existence. Absolutely everyone on Ashan were simply too frail, too mortal to prove compatible.

She needed someone who was almost as strong as she was, or better.

The issue she mainly suffered from was being superiorly designed compared to the rest. As an example, she guessed that her lifespan was almost endless, while a regular human did not even reach a hundred.

But Reilight was no regular human, as she already debunked. The Empress guessed that the thing hidden within him would permit him to become a suitable mate, capable of living at least for three hundred more years. And if it didn't, she was going to use her magic and alter him in such a way that it did.

Her head turned towards Reilight and they locked gaze.

For a moment, they waited as such, both peering from close proximity into the others eyes with no malicious intent.

But the wait began to feel excruciating.

Once more, the man besides her was right. She was afraid. Afraid of loneliness. Afraid of the sorrow of seeing her people dead. And most of all, afraid of herself dying alone.

She had already spent so many centuries in solitude and having witnessed generations after generations of lovers left its toll on her. It sparked emotions of both envy and grief. But most importantly, it sparked thoughts such as: 'Why do I not have someone of my own?'.

The Empress gave in and pleaded: "Remain by my side… Please..."

Realizing that it was best to end the joke there, Reilight slowly replied with kindness and empathy: "… Alright."

 **PART FIVE:**

Beneath the Jade Palace, in the Empress's sunken chamber, settled a soul crushing atmosphere of guilty silence.

But what exactly was it that led to its creation?

In the room, at that time, three individuals were present.

The Empress that lay on her bed with inflated belly. A half woman half snake naga with a golden staff and a mermaid. Both of the aforementioned individuals were naked and their scales were dark green.

However, the mermaid had one distinct object in her hand: a crystal globe. The purpose of this artifact was to look into distant lands. It worked through a complex web of similar globes that when infused with magic, permitted the transmission of vision.

Even though it sounded great, sometimes, the visions it brought were not pleasant.

That was why the room was under such a deafening silence. It was so quiet that one could almost hear their own breath.

The Empress lay with her eyes closed.

The other two stood staring at her, shocked, scared and motionless.

Nobody could say a single damned thing and that was because of the apocalyptic event they all witnessed: Reilight's true identity... And death.

That was why everything stood as still as if time had stopped.

The one most affected by it was the Empress.

It was a hard thing that... To lose one's most dearest. One had to think the revelation was too much for her to endure.

Some people could bear it, after a while. Others could not.

Yet, she held on.

Without a doubt, the entirety of her being wanted to burst out and cry, but she held it in.

A single, lonesome tear dared to break the statue like immersion that formed in the room, and made its way down the Empress's cheek.

It felt like the entirety of the ocean surrounding the jade palace had shrank and darkened at the news of Reilight's demise. It was equally as hard to find someone worth suffering for.

Beneath her closed pupils, a memory sprang to life: the Empress and Reilight, above on the surface, amidst fields of green, but under the protective shade of a mighty oak tree.

Both of them without so much as a single piece of clothing on.

He sat laid on his back with her in his embrace.

However, the Empress focused on their conversation at the time: "I know you, Rei. You are not the type to stand idly by as something like that happens." She wanted to encourage him to do the right thing when the situation called for it.

"If you had any idea what I truly was, what I did, you would not be here right now."

Her past self, filled with worry, asked: "… What did you do?"

"Everything you did not. Everything you never imagined. And all of it evil." Her eyes widened at his response. Noticing this, he continued: "You should try fighting for what you believe in sometimes. Not for a dragon or a country or for anyone else!"

"And what do you believe in?"

"That might makes right."

As it turned out, Reilight was a man more different than anything she ever imagined...

"Sometimes, those who are heartless once cared too much… Who did you lose that you became what you are?"

"Myself."

The memory ended there.

It took one such conversation to allow the Empress to arrive at the root of his being. Only after she learned of his true identity, did she posses all of the pieces to his puzzle: Reilight was a man who continuously attempted to become that which he once was, and to be better than that. It was of great importance to him that he reach this long lost goal.

All that was left in that moment was the grotesque realization that the two of them could not have been more different: Where she restricted herself to a disciplined, ordered and balanced life stile, Reilight had done the opposite and indulged in every possible sensation and desire.

One wanted to protect. The other liked to usurp.

One loved life. The other saw its value and exploited it to its fullest.

One fought for noble cause. The other just fought.

The few months that the two had spent together passed away so quickly… And as simply as that, the eternity of loneliness and sorrow was back upon the Empress's shoulders...


End file.
